


Laid to Rest

by mauzymorn



Series: Omertà [1]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Alive!Harry, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur!Harry, Attempted Sexual Assault, Barebacking, Consensual Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Fix-It, Graphic Violence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of past prostitution, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, mentions of past non/dub-con, mentions of past underage, past rent boy!Eggsy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-05-06 01:19:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 84,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5397506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mauzymorn/pseuds/mauzymorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the chaotic mess that had been V-Day, everyone's got to learn to get back on their feet, right? Finding out Harry's alive does wonders to that end for Eggsy - that is, until ghosts from the past rise up to ruin it all. How could Harry not have seen this coming? Archnemeses that can't stay dead seem to come with the territory of being a spy.</p><p>It's too bad that this particular ghost isn't one of Harry's... It's <em>Eggsy's</em>.</p><p> </p><p>  <span class="small">*Please see author's note at the end for any possible trigger concerns*</span></p><p> </p><p>  <span class="small"><strong>Please Note:</strong> This story was begun before there was any real announcement of <em>Kingsman 2</em>, and was completed before the sequel's release. For obvious reasons, it will therefore in no way comply with any canon that the second movie may establish.</span></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! I want to start off with saying that this story is dedicated to [mitslits](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitslits/pseuds/mitslits), for giving me the final push to get back into writing, and to [Nickygp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nickygp/pseuds/Nickygp), for being a constant inspiration with her dedication to her fics.
> 
> This is my first work for the Kingsman fandom, and I haven't written at all in a few years, so please be kind. Please check the end notes for any concerns over the degree of dub/non-con and underage mentions that will be in this story. Please take care of yourselves, and if you feel it is something that will trigger you, please skip reading this fic.
> 
> Disclaimer: All recognizable content to _Kingsman: The Secret Service_ is property of it's actual owners; I'm not making any profit off this fic, I'm simply writing it for my own amusement.

In the end, Eggsy told his mum everything – because she deserved to finally _know_ , but also because there was just too much to keep locked up inside himself. She knew her boy well enough that there would be no hiding the absolute devastation that he was living under; the cold emptiness that was a world without Harry.

_God, Harry…_

So he sat her down on Harry’s pristine sofa, took a deep breath, and let it all come out – the truth about his dad’s death, where he’d really been all those months that he was training, everything about Valentine and the almost-end of the world. He’d been prepared for the angry shouting, for the crying. What he hadn’t been prepared for was his mum suddenly going quiet, and looking him over with a determined frown. 

“Tell me the rest.” She demanded, and for a split second he had no idea what she was talking about. “There’s somethin’ else, babes. I can see it, don’ muck about.” Eggsy debated with himself for all of a minute before he answered her.

“D’you remember the man that came, when dad died?” He started slowly, knowing that this conversation was likely heading for more furious screaming and nothing else.

“The one you said sprung ya from jail that day? The one that died? Harry, weren’t it?” He nodded slowly, but the words he’d planned to say suddenly clogged up in his throat. _I can’t do this. I can’t say it, not out loud._ He pressed his lips firmly together, trying to stop the build-up of tears that he could already feel forming. Michelle seemed to see something in his face, because her expression quickly turned from curious to stormy.

“Did he do somethin’ to ya, babes?” She asked, teeth clenched tight. Eggsy was already shaking his head by the time she finished, “Did he _touch_ you?”

“Nah, mum. It weren’t like that – Harry was a proper gent. He ain’t never laid a hand on me like that, swear down.” He rubbed his hand wearily over his face, feeling the scrape of stubble that he hadn’t been arsed to deal with in days. 

“Did you… Did you want him to? That what this is about?” She was being careful, suddenly, sensing that they were entering delicate ground. Eggsy didn’t know what to say – what words could even come close to describing how he’d felt about Harry? “Eggsy… Did you love him?” It was practically a whisper, like a sacred thing let out into the air between them. 

“I don’ know…” He replied, just as quietly, before the thick choke of tears took over his voice. “It feels… It feels like the sky’s gone dark around me, like everythin’ is just all empty and dried up inside me – like there ain’t ever gonna be somethin’ worth smilin’ for again. And that’s just fuckin’ mental, isn’t it? We wasn’t like _that_ , Harry sure as fuck weren’t like that! But he… He believed in me, mum. He told me I was _good_ , he told me I could do things. He looked at me like I was a real fuckin’ _person_ , y’know? Not just some piece of trash off the Estate.” The tears were coming more quickly now, and Michelle pulled him in, wrapping him tightly in her arms. 

“He was brilliant, and gorgeous, but most of all he was so fuckin’ _kind_ , mum! And the last thing I ever did was disappoint him, was fuck up everythin’ he tried to give me. I just want him here… Anythin’ – absolutely fuckin’ _anythin’_ – would be worth sufferin’ so long as it meant Harry were back and breathin’. I’d do anythin’…” She held him silently while he cried, feeling pathetic for the tears when he was supposed to be a man grown, but also feeling just a little bit freer for having it all off his chest. When he finally quieted, she eased up her hold so that she could nudge him back to see his face. Michelle’s own face was streaked with tears, and Eggsy couldn’t help but be relieved that she wasn’t shouting.

“Sounds a lot like love to me, babes.” She said quietly, and his breath hitched. “Don’ get me wrong, love – I got some concerns about the fact that he was older than your own dad… But you said it weren’t like that for him, and that he never tried nothin’, and I believe ya. In the end, I feel like we got no control over who we fall in love with, yeah?” He nodded his head, breathing unsteady and so fucking relieved that she seemed to understand.

“How’d you do it?” He asked after a moment, afraid of hurting her but needing to know. “How’d you keep on goin’ after dad went?” She smiled at him sadly, reaching out a hand to stroke his cheek.

“I had ya to worry about, didn’ I? Couldn’ be selfish and just stop movin’ when I had a boy to raise, that ain’t what Lee would have wanted. I didn’ always do such a great job of it…” Eggsy started shaking his head immediately.

“That weren’t your fault, mum. Neither of us coulda known what Dean would turn into.” 

“I should’ve left him, though. When we saw what he was really like, I shoulda left. But I know that the world don’ run on ‘should’ – what’s done is done. So tell me, babes. What you got to live for?”

“You. My lil’ girl. Rox and Merlin. A short fuckin’ list, ain’t it?” He said with a small, defeated laugh.

“But it’s an important one. You just keep that in mind, Eggsy. It’s okay to think of him, and to miss him, and to still love him in yer heart. I can tell ya, that won’t ever go away. But you gotta keep movin’, love – for us.” He nodded his head again, rubbing a hand absentmindedly over his chest where the aching was worst. 

“Yeah. Okay, mum.” 

“Good. Now go an’ shave yer face, for godsakes. You look like you been sleepin’ in the alley.” He let out a little laugh, feeling lighter than he had in days. _I am gonna buy that woman every fuckin’ thing her heart desires, swear down._

* * *

The thing is… Eggsy had seen a whole lot of shit in his life _well_ before entering the world of spies and psychotic eco-terrorists. The kind of shit that left deep scars, both physical and mental. So he’d come out of Valentine’s bunker that day – after having a short mental breakdown and leaving that Swedish bird untouched and feeling sorry for him – knowing that he was headed for one _hell_ of a rough patch. Because this ain’t that kind of movie; you can’t take someone already suffering PTSD from a life of abuse, have him watch the one person that ever believed in him get shot in the fucking _face_ , then have him go on to murder a fuck-ton of bad guys with his own bare hands, _then_ order the explosions of a few hundred more’s heads, and expect that person to come away from it smiling like all’s fine.

That’s just fucking unrealistic, that is. 

So while he’d promised his mum that he’d keep going for her, for _them_ , that didn’t mean it wasn’t _really fucking difficult_ to do. He didn’t sleep – the only rest he got was when his body couldn’t handle the strain anymore and passed right the fuck out. He hardly ate. He’d wake screaming from nightmares, sometimes screaming Harry’s name. He knew the others were worried for him, but it felt like there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it all.

It got bad enough that Merlin ordered him moved into a room at the Kingsman mansion, to be permanently monitored until an improvement in his mental and physical state was seen. Needless to say, he wasn’t getting sent out on any missions, and the idleness slowly picked away at his already fraying brain. His mum had raised hell when they moved him, saying that they’d better allow her and Daisy to move in as well, or they’d find out just how destructive a mother on a rampage could be. They had a nice big room down the hall from his, and every day Eggsy took his little girl out to the gardens to see the flowers; it was the only really bright spot that he had. 

“…serious, you fucking _prick_!” Eggsy paused outside the door he was passing, momentary surprise breaking through his listlessness at the vehemence in Merlin’s voice. He couldn’t hear a response, and assumed that whoever had raised Merlin’s temper was over a line and not there in person. “We need your fucking help _here_ you absolute _arsehole_! I refuse to stand idle and watch him slowly _die_!” A frown pulled at Eggsy’s eyes, and he tried to think of which agents were out and active that could have possibly run into trouble. _Merlin said ‘him’, so at least I know it’s not Rox._ Daisy started pulling on his ear and squirming on his hip, wondering why they weren’t moving. He shushed her quietly, giving her a little bounce while he strained his ears. 

“Well try _harder_ , goddamn you!” There was a slam that sounded suspiciously like Merlin’s precious clipboard hitting a desk, and Eggsy decided to leg it before he got caught. 

“Wonder what’s got Uncle Merlin all in a strop, eh my lil’ flower?” She giggled prettily when he tickled his fingers behind her knee, and he bounced her a few more times to hear her do it again. “Let’s go find mum for some lunch, yeah?” They eventually found Michelle in one of the – _many_ – sitting rooms that the mansion housed, reading a book and curled up in a plush armchair. “Whatcha got there, mum?” He asked as they came closer, tilting his head to try and get a look at the title. 

“Oh, this?” She said disctractedly, eyes still skimming the page. “It’s _Pygmalion_ – the play they made _My Fair Lady_ from.” Eggsy felt as though his heart stopped dead in his chest. 

_Oh, like in ‘My Fair Lady’?_  
_Well, you’re full of surprises. Yes, like in ‘My Fair Lady’._

“…sy? Eggsy, babes! What’s wrong?” He snapped back out of his head to his mother’s voice and the light noises of distress that Daisy was making from where he was squeezing her too tight to his chest. 

“I… yeah, no… sorry. It’s nothin’.” He eased up his grip and rubbed the toddler’s back lightly, a silent apology. “Was thinkin’ earlier that it was ‘bout time for some lunch, yeah?” Michelle was still assessing him carefully, eyes skimming over his face. He could see the moment when she came to the decision to just let it go, as she did with most of his Harry-related episodes. The greatest, his mum. She understood. 

“I feel like toast and cheese today. How ‘bout you, babes?” She said instead. Their walk to the kitchen was a quiet one, broken only when they arrived in the room to find Roxy and Merlin already there.

“Going to eat with us today, Eggsy?” Roxy asked, her tone careful and tempered. Eggsy kind of hated it, if he was being honest. Rox had _never_ pulled punches with him before – if he’d been in a mood during training and said he didn’t feel like eating, she’d have told him to stop acting like a moody teenager and to _just eat something, for godsakes Eggsy, you’re being ridiculous_. She never talked to him like that anymore. He hated being treated like fragile glass, but he knew it was his own fault that they were.

“Might do, yeah.” He responded instead, and Michelle squeezed his elbow gently. He saw Roxy and Merlin both let out relieved breaths at his response, and thought idly in the back of his mind that professional fuckin’ _spies_ really shouldn’t be so transparent. Or maybe they just were to him. The meal passed easily, with the other three adults making conversation while Eggsy focused on keeping his toast in his stomach and helping Daisy put some jam on hers; though the latter was mostly resulting in sticky toddler hands leaving their mark all over his long-sleeved tee and spots of jam getting dropped on his trackies. He gave her a kiss against blonde curls and tried to snag a waving hand to clean it, thinking that at least he wasn’t wearing his suit. _Not much call for it, these days._

Lunch was cut short when Merlin’s glasses beeped with an incoming call, a frown of concentration on his face until a grin that looked downright _victorious_ took over. With a mutter of “Fucking _finally_!”, he jumped up from the table and practically ran out the door, headed for parts unknown. Eggsy blinked a bit, thinking that one day soon he was going to have to have a conversation with Merlin on proper words to be using in front of a wee one. The profanity reminded him of the one-sided conversation that he’d heard earlier, and he turned back to Roxy.

“Did we get our man back?” He asked, and she tilted her head in confusion.

“Beg pardon?” She asked, and he shrugged, suddenly feeling a bit uncomfortable for some unknown reason.

“I overheard Merlin earlier? Said somethin’ about needin’ help and not wantin’ to watch one of our guys die?” Her face cleared into that kind of blank stillness that she only used when on a job. _Or when she’s hidin’ somethin’._ He let out an exasperated and slighty angry breath. “Look, I know I ain’t bein’ sent out right now, and that I haven’t had a proper swearin’ in or anythin’, but I’m livin’ in our bloody HQ for Christ sakes, Rox. You _can_ tell me things.” She let out a sigh, looking angry and a bit harrassed, but Eggsy didn’t think it was really toward him. 

“I know, Eggs…” She said, at the same time that Michelle spoke up. 

“Eggsy, love. Just leave it be for now.” He let out a harsh breath, but let it go. He stood up, handing his baby sister off carefully to their mum, before turning for the door.

“Goin’ to have a lie-down.” He muttered, ignoring Roxy’s protesting noise. The anger burned in his stomach the whole way to his room – anger at Roxy and Merlin for keeping secrets, anger at himself, anger at Harry for leaving him. _You promised me you’d come back, Harry. You fuckin’ promised, you liar._

* * *

_Gary looked up at his daddy’s smiling face, grinning along with him._

_“Want to play a game, my boy?” His daddy asked, and Gary was already nodding his head enthusiastically. Daddy’s games were always the best. His daddy had been away for a long time, being trained for something new, he’d said. One day, Gary was gonna grow up and be a Marine, just like his dad. “Let’s play Knights of the Round Table!” Gary clapped his chubby little hands in excitement. “I’ll be Sir Lancelot!” His daddy said, and Gary frowned._

_“Won’t you be King Arthur, dad?” A little smile that Gary didn’t understand slipped onto his dad’s lips. “Nah, son. Let’s leave that for a friend of mine, yeah? One day soon, I’ll have him come say hello, and we’ll play. I think he’d make a good King Arthur one day, he’s a very kind man.” Gary shrugged off the odd comment with a child’s easiness._

_“If you’s Lancelot, then who’m I?” He asked instead. His dad’s grin only got wider._

_“What knight do you want to be?” Gary thought on it, before coming to a decision._

_“I don’ want to be a knight, dad.” His dad’s smile seemed to dim a little, and Gary scrambled for the right words – he didn’t want Daddy to think he didn’t want to play, after all. “I want to be somethin’ better!” One of his dad’s eyebrows raised in question._

_“What’s better than being a knight, my boy?” Gary’s little chest puffed out, proud of his idea._

_“The sword, dad! I’m gonna be King Arthur’s sword!” A little laugh coughed out of his mum from where she was sitting on the sofa._

_“You can’t be a sword dear,” She said, still suppressing chuckles. “that’s not a person.”_

_“Who says it can’t be a person?” His dad teased back to her, rubbing a hand in Gary’s hair when he looked disappointed. “After all, in the stories the sword had a mind of it’s own, didn’ it? Wouldn’ move out of the stone for anybody but Arthur, because he was most worthy, ain’t that right?”_

_“Do you know the sword’s name, Gary?” His mother asked, grinning as his excitement came back with his dad’s words. He shook his head ‘no’ – he remembered it was something long and hard to say, but that was about it. “Excalibur.”_

_“Maybe we should shorten that for young mouths, eh?” His dad laughed. “You can be Excalibur, my boy, and we’ll call ya ‘Excey’ for short.”_

_“Eggsy…” Gary tried, his tongue wrapping oddly around the word and mangling it, just a little. It made his dad laugh some more, so he was okay with that._

_“Close enough, son.” Daddy picked up Gary’s plastic sword and tapped it to each shoulder and the top of his head. “From this day on, you’ll be the fearless ‘Eggsy’!”_

_“Will your friend like me being his sword?” He asked, suddenly worried that their King Arthur wouldn’t like him. But his daddy only smiled that strange little smile again._

_“Of course, Eggsy. My friend will be a proper good King Arthur, and you’ll be his loyal fighter, yeah?”_

_“Yeah!”_

* * *

Eggsy woke up with a start, the memory playing out like a movie clip in his mind and sweat cooling on his skin. It had been only a week after that day that he’d been sat on the floor of their little flat, watching his mum cry while a strange man talked to her in gentle tones. 

When Harry had crouched down in front of him, Eggsy’s child mind had noticed that the strange man had kind eyes and a sad frown. _He’s a very kind man_ , his dad had said about his ‘friend’, and Eggsy couldn’t help but think at the time that perhaps this stranger was their missing ‘King Arthur’ after all. 

_What’s your name, young man?_  
_Eggsy._

Of course, time had blurred Harry’s image from his memory; the only things he retained about the strange man was that he had kind eyes, looked very sad, and that he smelled very nice – like _comfort_. It wasn’t until he’d gotten a bit older that Eggsy had been able to put words with that scent; Harry had smelled that day like sandalwood, amber and _warmth_. How something as nebulous as ‘warmth’ could have a scent, he didn’t have a proper explanation for. It just _was_. 

That day outside Holborn, Eggsy’d had no idea who Harry was until he introduced himself. The dark sunglasses had obscured his eyes, and the only scent he could pick up out there on the stairs had been the usual slightly smoggy reek of the poorer areas. It was in the Black Prince, when the sunglasses had been traded for clear lenses, that Eggsy’d had the stray thought of _He still has kind eyes_. 

And even as pissed as he’d been, when he’d loomed closer over the table to give Harry a piece of his mind about ivory towers and the utter _arseholes_ that inhabited them, he’d still noticed on a breath in that Harry smelled of sandalwood, amber and warmth. 

But it was the touching, that sealed it. 

That moment when Harry’d laid his hand on Eggsy’s shoulder – and yeah, alright, it had only been with the ulterior motive of planting a fucking bug on him, tricky fucking wanker – had been when he’d known he was really fucked. Because Eggsy didn’t mind the touch, not really. It surprised even himself, because he didn’t like being touched by strange people. Not ever.

_For good fucking reason, too._


	2. Chapter 2

Most people who knew Eggsy for all of five minutes would figure out that there wasn’t _anything_ that he wouldn’t do for those he loved – to care for them, to protect them. Most people just didn’t know how literal that was.

The first time that Dean had grabbed him by the back of the neck and dragged him out to meet a ‘friend’, Eggsy had known that something bad was about to happen. When Dean hissed in his ear – _It’s either you or your mum, boy. Make yer choice_ – and a measly fifty quid changed hands, he knew exactly what that ‘bad’ thing was going to be. 

Eggsy knew a lot of things, even then by the tender age of twelve. What Dean didn’t know was that it didn’t matter – Eggsy was already ruined. (But that was a story for another day.) Dean didn’t know much of anything at all.

When he was seventeen, and considered ‘too old’ by most of Dean’s _friends_ , he’d thought he was gonna be free. He was, for about a month – but then Dean had beaten his mum so badly, she’d ended up in A&E, and Dean had said he wasn’t gonna cover the costs of “fixing such a useless bitch”. So what choice had there been, really? Eggsy had promised the kind man he’d take care of his mum, hadn’t he? Smith Street was full of boys, just like him – what did it matter if he went to join them?

When he’d joined the Marines, he’d thought he’d found that second chance at freedom, only to be proved wrong once again. All it had taken was one phone call from his mum, crying her heart out and screaming that she couldn’t stand to lose him too, and that was that idea fucked. He’d packed up and gone home without a second thought – back to her, back to Dean, and back to the news of a baby sister. 

_I ain’t payin’ for another fuckin’ useless mouth to feed, Michelle!_  
_You leave her the fuck alone! If you’s so fuckin’ worried about it, I’ll pay for the baby – you won’t have to spend a fuckin’ thing on her, swear down! I’ll feed her, and change her, and what the fuck ever – just leave mum and the baby be!_

And babies… well, babies weren’t cheap, were they? But Eggsy had sworn that he’d cover it, cover _all_ of it, and that meant he’d fucking well make it happen. He wasn’t gonna give Dean any excuse to hurt his precious little girl – and Smith Street always provided. 

Eggsy didn’t like being touched. Didn’t mean he couldn’t put up with it if he _had_ to.

* * *

Eggsy was careful about a lot of things. You _had_ to be, when you lived like he did – running drugs for Dean, and all the shit he did to take care of Daisy. Didn’t mean that all the anger and frustration that were his constant companions didn’t start stacking up and making him a little _less_ careful sometimes… Like stealing a car and deciding to smash it into the Coppers, for instance. 

Going to prison had never frightened him; it was almost fucking funny to sit there and watch the inspector trying to ‘reason’ him into cooperating, turning to threats when it didn’t work. Prison didn’t frighten him at all – but eighteen months of not being around to care for Daisy? Not being able to pay her way? Dean would kill her in an instant – and _that_. That fucking _terrified_ him. So he called in his favour, and for one of the first times in his life found himself praying to whoever might fucking be listening. 

To have Harry sit there across from him and start banging on about how fucking _disappointed_ in him his dad would be – like he fucking knew _anything_ about his dad at all – pissed him off royally. He’d grown up with this hazy figure of ‘the kind man’ in the back of his mind, which he’d always sort of turned to when he needed comforting as a kid, and he’d made up all these ideas of what he’d thought that man would be like; that he’d understand that Eggsy had done his best to take care of his mum, just like he’d promised. That, even if maybe if his methods weren’t the greatest, the kind man would still be proud of him for _trying_.

Harry laying out a list of his sins like so much dirty business was almost worse than a fucking punch to the gut; the reality of him clashing harshly with the image that Eggsy had made up for him in rough times. He didn’t mention anything about Dean’s ‘other’ deals with him, or about Smith Street – but Eggsy just figured that Harry was too much of gent to bring up something so filthy in public. 

He was almost willing to start hating him – until Rottie and the rest of Dean’s hounds showed up and started talking rough. It was like having the comparison right there in front of him lifted some kind of veil of anger from in front of his eyes; because he realized, right then, that even though Harry’d had some choice things to say about his actions, he’d been coming at it saying that Eggsy could be _better_. Harry wasn’t telling him he was trash, no. He was telling him he was _worth_ being something more. 

He hadn’t felt worth anything since a cold, secret night when he was eleven, and here Harry was thirteen years later telling him he was. Fucking magical, that was. 

Watching Harry utterly _destroy_ Dean’s hounds was almost as good, if he was being honest. The proper, prissy gent that Eggsy had first thought Harry to be was suddenly something else, something dangerous. Something _better_ – the kind of ‘better’ that Eggsy wanted to be. Harry was no mewling pussy cat, no. He was a fucking lethal _panther_. It interested him, in a way nothing ever had. 

So when Harry gripped him by the shoulder to say goodbye (and plant his fucking bug), Eggsy’s only reaction had been to stare in wonder at Harry’s hand, before looking back at his face. Harry’d probably thought he was still in shock from the fight, but the truth was that he’d been struck still by the realization that the weight of Harry’s hand was – of all things – _comforting_ to him. Here was a touch that didn’t make Eggsy want to cringe and lose his lunch all over the table, like most touches did. 

Here was a touch that felt like _I believe in you_ , and _Everything is going to be alright_ , and _You have power over your own life_. It was a touch that could maybe one day feel like _I’m proud of you_. Maybe it was a bit mental that one quick squeeze of his shoulder from a relative stranger could be all that to him, but there it was all the same. 

He’d still been thinking about that touch as he’d gone in through the door at the flat, which was why he’d been distracted enough not to consider _Oh right, Dean’s probably gonna fuckin’ murder me_. Somehow, even though he hardly knew him, Harry was suddenly worth taking the beating for. As Dean had cracked him in the face, screaming about telling him Harry’s name, Eggsy’d had a sort of mantra going through his head: _kind eyes, sandalwood amber warmth, comforting touch. He can touch me, he can touch me, he can touch me_. 

Like fuck was he gonna tell Dean a goddamn thing about Harry. As he’d felt the butcher’s knife scrape below his eye, as he’d heard Dean growl “I could kill you right here and nobody would know”, Eggsy’d even had the passing thought that Harry could be worth dying for. 

“But I would.” Harry’s voice, impossibly ringing out in the flat from fucking nowhere. Harry’s voice threatening Dean, for _him_. Telling him to let him go, telling Eggsy to come to him. Calling Eggsy to _safety_. Was it really any wonder that he’d fallen for him, when he’d never thought he’d fall for _anyone_? He’d hesitated at the doorway to the fitting room, yeah – but not for the reason that one might think. Eggsy wasn’t stupid, alright – he knew what usually went down when posh blokes tell boys like him to join them in small, secluded rooms. If he was being honest, he’d halfway been expecting it since Holborn, because who busts someone out of jail for nothing? What had thrown him, what had made him hesitate at the door for a moment, was that for the first time he’d thought to himself that maybe he wouldn’t mind it so much. 

But then, the only thing Harry’d done was put him in front of a mirror, and told him that he saw someone with potential. Made him feel – for the second time that day – that he had _worth_. He hadn’t touched him at all, not even on the shoulder again. Even all the strange things that had come after – the elevator, the bullet train, the fucking underground _hangar_ and the recruits dorms – hadn’t been enough to wipe the amazement of that one little fact from the back of his brain. 

Harry had saved him, taken him in, given him the opportunity to try out to become a real fucking _spy_ , changed his entire goddamn life… And the only thing he’d asked for in return was that Eggsy would do his best. 

Of fucking course Eggsy’d had to fall in love with that. How could he not?

So he’d pulled himself together, done his best with his training, put up with Charlie and the other posh gits that liked to put hands on him to shove him around (at least it was only for that reason), and had sent his recruitment pay home to his mum for taking care of his little girl. He called her every week and made her put it on speaker so that he could hear the baby’s little noises and know that Dean hadn’t killed her yet, and dreamt of the day that he’d have the money to take them both away from their monsters. 

That dream had become a reality, in the end. Eggsy still had his own monsters, but what did that matter so long as his girls were safe?

* * *

It was nearing on supper time when it suddenly occurred to Eggsy that he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of anyone in hours. Figuring he had nothing better to do with his time, he set out in search of whoever he’d find first – Merlin, Roxy, or his mum and Daisy. It was a bit strange for them all to be missing at once, but he’d learned a long time ago that there were no truly ‘normal’ days at Kingsman HQ. Knowing that, he should have maybe been less surprised to hear raised voices from behind the door leading to Arthur’s private sitting rooms – which had obviously been passing unused in recent days. 

He found himself unconciously creeping closer to the door, straining his ears to try and identify the voices; he said ‘fuck it’ to being stealthy about it right about the point that he recognized one of the shouting voices as his mum’s, and burst through the doors instead. His worry had him halfway across the room towards where she stood with hands clenched angrily on her hips before he stopped dead, finally taking in the rest of the scene before him. Merlin and Roxy were both opposite from his mum, Merlin looking unhappy but resolute and Roxy with her arms crossed defensively across her chest – but the floor just about fell out from underneath him when he saw the ghost before him.

There, just a few feet away, stood a vision of Harry fucking Hart. 

Eggsy didn’t notice the room falling silent around them. He didn’t notice Roxy’s quick breath in, or Merlin’s quietly muttered “ _Fuck_.” He didn’t notice Daisy making little confused gurgles from her perch on the sofa, or his mum’s angry stance melting in defeat. His eyes caught onto Harry’s – _kind eyes, kind eyes, kind eyes_ – and he stopped blinking. He inhaled in his shock – _sandalwood, amber, warmth_ – and stopped breathing. Eggsy’s hands curled into fists at his side – _he can touch me, he can touch me, he can touch me_ – and he took a jerking step back, just as the ghost of Harry raised a hand towards him. 

“Eggsy… Please.” Harry said, and Eggsy had never heard such a pleading tone in that smooth voice before. He clenched his jaw hard, feeling as though a scream wanted to burst its way from his chest, and turned immediately on his heel to leave the room. He didn’t make it very far.

“Excalibur!” His mother barked out, and it halted him instantly. She _never_ called him by the full name – not since then, not since _dad_. “Eggsy, babes.” Her voice gentled, and he could hear her soft footsteps coming up behind him, the barest hesitant brush of fingertips to his shoulderblade as she came around in front of him. Her eyes were wide and just starting to redden with suppressed tears; Eggsy shook his head, feeling as though there weren’t enough pieces of his shattered being left to deal with any of it. 

“Look at me, love.” Michelle’s voice was barely a whisper, this conversation meant just for the two of them and no one else. “You got every right to be hurt and furious, babes. You do. But just listen to me for a bit, yeah?” He didn’t acknowledge the statement, but she knew that him not storming from the room was as good as an agreement anyways. “I promise you, Eggsy, I had _no fuckin’ idea_ about any of this, aright?” He swallowed hard, and jerked his head in a quick nod. She took a deep breath, preparing herself.

“You told me that first day that you’d do _anythin’_ , if it meant you could have him back alive and breathin’. And babes, believe me, I know _exactly_ how that fuckin’ feels – but you’ve gone and been given a miracle here… You got him back. _Eggsy you got him back_. Give him a chance to explain, love – because he sure as fuck owes you an explanation, but you owe him the chance to give you one just as much.” Her eyes searched his face as the first few tears fell, and Eggsy could feel his own beginning to well up. Her hands were cold when they cupped his cheeks, and when he pressed their foreheads together, he could feel that he was trembling all over. “You got him back, he came back to you. What’s that worth, love?”

“ _Everything_.” She was fucking brilliant, his mum. He ached for her, that he somehow got lucky enough to have Harry come back, when Lee would always be gone forever. Daisy gave an unhappy little cry from the sofa, and it pulled the two of them out of the quiet little bubble they’d been lost in. 

“Go on,” Michelle said, loud enough for all occupants of the room to hear once again. “go fetch your girl.” Eggsy still felt unsteady as he made his way to the sofa, refusing to look at any of the others. It was almost like his feelings were so completely tangled up inside of him, that the only thing coming out was numbness. He lifted a quietly whimpering Daisy into his arms, taking a moment to shush her before turning towards Harry. When they were only a step away, he finally lifted his head to look Harry in the eyes, noticing the vivid scar stretched across his left temple absentmindedly. Harry looked… Eggsy didn’t really know how Harry looked. Maybe like he was a little bit hopeful, maybe like he was a little bit scared. But Eggsy had never seen Harry look like either of those things before, so maybe it was just his own wishful thinking.

“Hey, my lil’ flower…” He said softly, his eyes never leaving the warm brown ones they were fixed on, as he brushed a kiss through tangled blonde curls. “This is Mister Harry. Can you say hello?” Daisy’s little nose tucked into his neck, playing shy, while what might have been the beginnings of a fond smile pulled briefly at the corner of Harry’s mouth, before disappearing back into tightly pressed lips.

“Eggsy, I’m so sorry.” He said, and the words left his mouth before he could even properly think them over.

“ _You should be_.” Harry’s face seemed to fall even further, before cutting off into that particular kind of blankness that all spies perfect. 

“…’ry.” Daisy’s little voice broke the uncomfortable silence, and Eggsy blinked before looking down at her. She was staring up at Harry’s face, one hand reaching for the starburst of scar tissue. 

“Yeah, flower. That’s Mister Harry, aren’t you clever?” He gently took the reaching hand, pulling it back down toward her own chest. “No touchin’ that, love. Might hurt him, eh?” Harry was staring at him, eyes searching as though trying to puzzle him out. _Good fuckin’ luck, bruv. I don’t even know meself_. He turned around without another word, making his way slowly to the door once again.

“Eggsy?” Harry’s voice was tentative, like he’d never heard it before. It reminded him of the way Merlin and Roxy talked to him, like he was some delicate thing that was easily broken – not realizing that he’d been slowly cracking apart for ages already. 

“It’s supper time, and I got a lil’ mouth to feed. You can keep me and my girl company, if you got somethin’ to say.” He didn’t turn around to look.

“Now, Eggsy…” Merlin started, only to be cut off by Michelle.

“You shut yer fuckin’ mouth, boy. I ain’t done with you.” On any other day, it would have been hilarious to hear Merlin’s “Yes, ma’am”, but as it was Eggsy didn’t have the energy to care. Let his mum rip into them, they probably deserved to hear it. The door softly shut, and the only sound was Daisy’s quiet humming and the soft pad of Harry’s footsteps following him down the hall. They didn’t speak at all until they were settled at the kitchen table, Daisy on Eggsy’s lap and messily eating spoonfuls of porridge. 

“Won’t you have something to eat as well?” Harry asked, his voice sounding a little odd.

“Not hungry.” 

“You look as though you’ve perhaps lost some weight.” _That’s putting it fuckin’ politely_ , Eggsy thought with an inward snort.

“And you look like you’ve perhaps gained some fuckin’ life.” He responded instead, but with no real bite to the words. He was too drained to sum up the anger that usually came so easily; everything inside himself just felt numb.

* * *

Harry felt the same rush of adrenaline that one would usually get before entering a minefield, and thought that it was perhaps entirely appropriate. He didn’t know how to handle this version of Eggsy – withdrawn, desolate. _Cold_. 

Eggsy had always been nothing short of _vibrant_ ; whether he be pontificating about the disparity between the classes, indignant with righteous fury, or bouncing up alongside Harry and eagerly drinking in his words, absorbing all the knowledge that Harry was willing to give him. In the short months that he’d known the young man, Eggsy had been a bright splash of colour and noise in an otherwise dull and quiet existence.

_What has happened to him? Was he harmed? Has Merlin kept something from me?_

The worry ate away at him, but Harry tried to set it aside. Eggsy wasn’t truly _his_ to worry about, now was he? For what had he been to the boy – a stranger, a mentor, someone to learn from and perhaps respect? They hadn’t really been anything like _friends_ ; there was too much of Harry’s life that he hadn’t been allowed to share with him, not while he was still only a potential candidate. But there had been… _something_. Harry had never felt so close to any other of his candidates through the years – Lee had been delightful, and the closest thing to a friend that Harry’d had in years, aside from Merlin. But even such a relationship with Lee was nothing like how he’d come to think of Eggsy in their time together. 

Harry wanted to see Eggsy flourish into the great man that he knew he had the potential to be; he wanted to know all of his victories, and guide him through any defeats; he wanted to protect him like none other, but didn’t know how to do such a thing without crushing his spirit in the effort. 

He wanted to be there – in any capacity that Eggsy would allow him – for it all. _You are an old fool, Harry Hart_. 

His almost-death had brought clarity to Harry. Previous to being shot in the head, he might have worried about overstepping bounds, about the age difference between them, or about any potential problems that might arise given that he would technically hold a position of authority over Eggsy. And it was not to say that those weren’t all important things to consider – but they all became a non-issue in Harry’s mind for one simple reason. 

Harry would only take as much as Eggsy would allow him to have, and there was absolutely _no way in hell_ that Eggsy would ever want something like _that_ from Harry. 

If Eggsy wanted to be friends, they would be friends. If Eggsy was angry enough that he wanted nothing more than a working relationship, then Harry would respect his wishes and give him precisely that – no matter how much it might tear at him to do so. Harry would give absolutey anything that Eggsy asked of him. And if that meant, right in that moment, that he had to find the bollocks to give the young man an explanation on how, precisely, one cheats death… Well. 

Harry would just have to do so. 


	3. Chapter 3

Harry had been certain, at the beginning, that he had made the right decision. But now, after seeing Eggsy – _so thin, so sad looking… What has gone wrong?_ – his certainty had dwindled down to nothing. Clearly the young man hadn’t been taking very good care of himself; Merlin had tried to warn Harry that Eggsy wasn’t in good shape, but he had foolishly thought his old friend to merely be exaggerating – despite appearances, Merlin was the biggest mother hen Harry’d ever seen is his life, and that meant that he could have a tendency to over-react. 

_Clearly, you were mistaken, old man._

His first glimpse of Eggsy when he’d burst into the room had been like cool rain after months in the desert; somehow both soothing and refreshing, _vital_. The boy had stared at him as though seeing a ghost – _and really, can you blame him for that, Harry?_ – and he’d found himself unconciously reaching out with the intent to comfort, only to have Eggsy finch away from his touch. If Harry was being honest with himself, that one small action had hurt much more than it should have. 

Harry had noticed from the beginning that the young man seemed to have an aversion to touch – when his step-father’s lackeys had entered the pub, Eggsy had leant farther and farther away as they’d drawn nearer. When Harry had placed a hand on his shoulder in order to plant his listening device, he’d seen immediately that the touch had unsettled Eggsy somehow. Though, given the abuse he then overheard upon the boy’s return to his flat, Harry wasn’t altogether surprised by the revelation; he supposed that if one spent the majority of their life with most touches being in the form of slaps and punches, it was entirely reasonable to want to avoid the sensation altogether. 

Though he hadn’t been around much during Eggsy’s training – between the coma and being kept quite busy with all that Valentine nonsense – he’d noticed that distance from his abuser hadn’t seemed to lessen his aversion. Eggsy and Roxanne had obviously developed some form of friendship during their training, despite being in competition against each other, but even there Harry had noticed that any touching was usually instigated by Eggsy; a brief clasp of the tips of her fingers whilst comforting her before the skydive, patting her hand in relief when they both survived the fall. In all the footage of their training that Harry had reviewed, the only time he’d seen Roxy touch Eggsy first was the night that Charlie and those other twats had dumped water on the boy to frighten him awake. Eggsy had made to lunge at the others, and Roxy had pressed hands to his chest to stop him from fighting – but even then, Harry had noticed that after the altercation was over, it was his puppy that Eggsy turned to for some kind of physical comfort, not his friend. 

Harry would like to think that he is not altogether a stupid man, so given his observations on Eggsy’s feelings about being touched, he had resolved to never lay a hand on the boy without Eggsy initiating it first – no matter how innocent the intent behind the gesture. 

What had startled Harry, however, was seeing Eggsy with his mother just then in the sitting rooms. For if anyone should be an exception when it came to touching him, should it not be the boy’s own mother? And though, yes, her touch did not seem to unsettle Eggsy, Harry had noted that she still seemed to be _careful_ with him. When approaching him from behind, Michelle had only allowed just the barest brush of her fingertips to his shoulderblade, before turning to be in front of him – _so that he could see her?_ – and even when she’d reached to cup Eggsy’s cheeks in her hands, it had been a light touch, one easily broken if so wished. The only true exception to the boy’s aversion seemed to be the beautiful little bundle currently in his lap, happily sucking porridge off the spoon that Eggsy provided her. 

“There we are, my girl,” Eggsy murmured to the little one, reaching for a cloth to wipe her face. “isn’t that yummy, eh?” The words broke Harry out of his thoughts.

“Eggsy…” He began, but ultimately found himself unable to form the words, the explanation, that he needed to. So he momentarily took the cowardly way out. “Miss Daisy. Is she…” Eggsy raised an eyebrow at him, and waited. “Well, it’s only that you and your mother both keep referring to her as ‘yours’, when it was my understanding that the young lady was your sister?” The corner of Eggsy’s mouth twitched, like he’d wanted to smile but had suppressed it. He had a look in his eyes like he knew that Harry was stalling. 

“She _is_ my sister, yeah. But I’m also the one what mostly raised her,” He said, and Harry noticed a brief hesitation before he continued to explain. “Dean didn’t want no baby around the place, and when mum was first pregnant he’d started making noises about ‘just getting rid of it’, which he weren’t the type to do things the _proper_ or _safe_ way, ya get me?” Harry did, in fact, ‘get him’ – and he felt that low anger burn in his stomach at the very idea. “So’s I told him to fuck off and leave mum alone, that I’d take care of the baby and pay her way. And I did – I fed her, and changed her, and dealt with her when she’d start to cryin’. Bought her all the things she needed. So she’s still sort of _mine_ at the same time, y’know?” 

“Did your mother not take care of these things herself?” Eggsy’s expression twisted in anger, and Harry scrambled to make his thoughts more clear. “I mean no insult or judgment by that, Eggsy. I was merely curious, I promise.” The anger on his face cleared away, only to fall into sadness.

“She took care of Dean, which meant takin’ care of us. I know some people would be right quick to go judgin’ her – _Oh how could you laze about the flat all day and let yer boy take care o’ your baby for ya? How could you turn a blind eye to all the illegal shit yer son is doin’?_ – but they don’ know shit about it. The happier she kept Dean, the more he left me and my lil’ flower alone. You got any idea how stong a woman’s gotta be to cozy on up to a fuckin’ _monster_ , so’s to keep her kids safe? Weren’t _nothin’_ for me to take care of one lil’ baby compared to _that_.” Eggsy blew out a harsh breath, gentling his tone when Daisy seemed to pick up on his upset. “It’s real easy for people who’d never had to deal with someone like _him_ to say that mum shoulda just left him. They got _no idea_ that by the time his type shows their true fuckin’ colours, leavin’ ain’t as easy as all that.” Eggsy rolled a shoulder, as if trying to physically throw the feelings away.

“So are you gonna get to talkin’ or not?” He demanded, obviously done with Harry’s avoidence of the true topic at hand. Drawing in a deep breath, Harry ‘faced the music’, as it were.

* * *

“As you know,” Harry began, and Eggsy found himself holding his breath. “Kingsman suits are – ”

“ – Of course, bulletproof.” Eggsy finished the sentence, and Harry’s mouth twitched in a sad sort of smile. 

“Quite. As are our glasses; ballistics rated, all of it. The combination of Valentine being a shitty shot, turning his head before firing, and my glasses deflecting the bullet, meant that I got off very lucky. Instead of entering my left eye, the bullet instead grazed my temple – there was enough immediate concussive force to render me unconcious.”

“And head wounds bleed like a bitch.” Eggsy would never be able to get the image of the blood spray he’d seen through the glasses feed that day out of his mind. 

“…Yes. Thankfully, I was already unconcious before the back of my head hit the asphalt; though, it was precisely that which caused some problems.” Eggsy felt a twisting pain in his gut at the thought of ‘problems’. “I woke up in a crowded Kentucky hospital; I’m told that I had been in a coma for close to three weeks, at that point.” 

“You and yer fuckin’ _comas_ , bruv…” 

“When I awoke,” Harry continued, obviously ignoring Eggsy’s very pointed comment. “I experienced a short time of trauma-induced amnesia; I had no idea who I was, let alone anything else. Understandably, not knowing anything _about_ Merlin, meant that I didn’t know enough to call and inform Kingsman that I was, in fact, still alive.” 

“…How long?” Eggsy felt as though his heart was breaking anew. “How long until you remembered?”

“I was kept another fortnight until my memories restored themselves, at which point I contacted Merlin for extraction home. I’m told that mine was a relatively quick recovery, as far as these things usually go.” Eggsy’s brow furrowed as he did the math; that accounted for just over a month, where Harry had been gone for almost two. 

“And the other almost three weeks?” He demanded, voice turning harder despite his willingness to hear Harry out. Here Harry’s eyes cut away from his, looking down towards the top of the table and an unhappy frown beginning to pull at his mouth. 

“Merlin contacted Kingsman’s American branch in order to arrange my retrieval from the hospital, as well as provide me with a new suit and equipment, before I was to board one of our private jets to make the journey home. The American branch picked me up from the hospital, as ordered, and brought me to their headquarters for equipping – however, upon my arrival I was detained. News had spread about Chester King’s defection, and the Americans wanted to be certain about where precisely my loyalties lay. I was permitted contact with Merlin, but with no functioning Arthur to order them into giving me up, we were having quite a bit of difficulty convincing them. Our American friends are rather… persistent.” 

“And what,” Eggsy began angrily. “In all them three weeks that they had you, Merlin couldn’ve said somethin’ about you breathin’ and such to the rest of us?” Here Harry took a breath, as though preparing himself. 

“I asked him not to.” A growl burst from Eggsy’s chest, words failing him in his hurt rage. 

“What the actual _fuck_ , Harry?!” He shouted, and Daisy let out a cry from her perch on his lap. He jerked himself up out of his chair, clutching his sister to his chest and beginning to pace, keeping his hands gentle and pressing kisses to her forehead to soothe her even as he felt like ripping things apart. 

“Just as news about Chester’s betrayal found the Americans, so too had I heard of it. I didn’t know who in the organization was trustworthy, aside from Merlin himself. I asked him to keep all news of my survival secret, until such a time as I could return and determine any potential threats for myself.” 

“And me?” Eggsy asked brokenly, voice cracking despite his best efforts to control it. “You didn’t think you could trust _me_ , Harry?” At this, Harry rose from his seat at the table as well, one hand outstretched towards him, but making no move to come closer.

“Of _course_ I trust you, Eggsy.” He said soothingly. “Merlin mentioned that you’d been under quite a bit of… strain, after your defeat of Valentine. He said you weren’t eating, weren’t sleeping; he thought perhaps the violence had been affecting you negatively. I worried about adding more on to that, when you… weren’t in good health, as it were.” Eggsy stared at him incredulously.

“It was because of _you_!” He burst out, startling poor Daisy once again, but he couldn’t contain it this time. “I watched you fuckin’ _die_ , Harry! What the fuck _else_ was I supposed to be like, after that?!” Harry’s body jerked hard, the reaching hand falling back to his side, and his eyes widened in apparent shock.

“What do you mean, you _watched_?” 

“Told me to stay put, didn’ ya? So’s I stayed, like you said. Only, I kept runnin’ everythin’ we’d said to each other through me head, and tryin’ to think of how I was gonna fix it when you got back.” Harry’s face fell into what might have been sadness at the mention of their last fight. “It didn’ sit right with me, none of it. So I wanted to see for meself that you were alright, that you’d be comin’ back like you promised. Turned on your feed, thought I’d just have a quick look, yeah? Only it weren’t so quick, after all.” He didn’t even notice that he was crying until Daisy let out a sad whimper and reached pudgy little hands up to touch his face.

“Oh, _Eggsy_ …” Harry sighed, and took a few steps closer. “I am so unbelievably sorry, my dear, for all of it. I should have never said those things to you before I left, and I most certainly should have never had us part in anger.” Eggsy sniffed hard, trying to reel his emotions in.

“Weren’t just your fault, though. I said stuff I shouldn’ve too.” He mumbled, giving Daisy a little bounce to settle her once again. 

“Nevertheless. I… I would understand, completely, should you still be angry over both that argument and my recent… transgressions. I had no idea that part of the reason you were suffering so was because of witnessing my apparent death; that is a horrible thing to experience, no matter the circumstances, and I apologize profusely for any harm that I have caused.” Harry seemed so fucking _earnest_ , it was a little bit heartbreaking. 

“I ain’t sayin’ that I won’t still be a bit angry with ya for awhile, but I can get it, I guess.” He said, and Harry nodded in acceptance. “And me and Merlin are gonna be having _words_ , we are. But… It’s just so fuckin’ _good_ to have you back, Harry.” The older man smiled a little at that, and Eggsy found himself scrambling for a less… _emotional_ topic, in order to get himself a bit under control. “What was the first thing you remembered? After the amnesia, I mean.” He asked, and Harry’s smile widened.

“It was _you_.” Was his response, and Eggsy thought to himself, _So much for less emotional_. Some of his shock must have shown on his face, because Harry continued. “The nurses had been trying for weeks to spark some kind of memory in me, and the closest they’d gotten so far was when I showed some interest in a book of old Arthurian tales.” He said dryly, and Eggsy felt his lips twitch, despite himself. “I believe they thought perhaps I’d been some kind of professor or some such, because they began bringing me in books of all sorts of different myths and legends. There was one that contained paintings and other images to go along with the tales, and I found myself rather stuck upon a particular painting of Hermes.” Eggsy’s head tilted in confusion. “I couldn’t figure out what was so arresting about the image, until I realized that it was his feet.”

“…His feet?” Harry smiled widely once again, and Eggsy felt his breath catch at the sight. 

“Yes. You see, Hermes is most commonly depicted as having wings upon the sides of his feet.” It suddenly clicked into place for Eggsy.

“The first thing you remembered was my stupid fuckin’ trainers?” He asked incredulously, and Harry actually laughed.

* * *

Things did not _magically_ get better around the Kingsman mansion, but there was some improvement. Harry was relieved to see that Eggsy began to eat more regularly, and was perhaps getting some more sleep. The weight and muscle tone that the young man had lost in the almost two months that Harry had been gone was once again replacing itself, and the tight feeling in Harry’s chest that had developed upon his first sighting of Eggsy began to loosen with his increasingly healthy look. 

Harry’s relationship with Eggsy was… confusing, to say the least. Most days their conversations were cordial, perhaps even _friendly_ , so very close to how it was before that awful day. Eggsy was still prone to moments of silence or quick flashes of temper, but on the whole those weren’t _that_ out of the norm for the young man. He’d always had a bit of a hair-trigger on his moods, Harry thought that perhaps it was just more apparent in recent days because they were all watching him so closely. 

Eggsy and Merlin had, in fact, ‘had words’ – as had the young man and Roxy. He’d discovered that Roxy had worked out for herself that Harry was still alive, and had been ordered by Merlin not to say a word. The shouting between the three of them that day had almost been audible clear across the mansion grounds, but they had come out of it with amends having been made and the three of them seemingly closer than ever. 

The first time Harry had heard Eggsy talk to Daisy about her ‘Uncle Merlin’, he’d almost chocked on his tea. “Not. A. _Word_.” Merlin had growled at him, much to Harry’s delight. No, things were not _perfect_ , but they were better. 

The healthier that Eggsy seemed to get, in both body and mind, the more Merlin and Harry began discussing getting him out in the field – the world was a disaster, after V-Day, and Kingsman was running on very little manpower. Those agents who had defected with Chester had been taken care of by those nasty implants, but there were still many who perished while the world was under the effects of the transmitters. 

Harry marched into the meeting room, glasses transmitting the virtual presences of those agents left, as well as both Roxy – _pardon, Lancelot_ – and Eggsy standing there in the flesh. He gestured Lancelot to her chair, and took the seat of Arthur. Eggsy seemed to hesitate, so Harry silently waved him towards Galahad’s seat. Once all were settled, Merlin spoke from his place standing at Harry’s left. 

“Good morning, Kingsmen. There are a few matters of import to discuss today, so we will’na waste time with lengthy ceremonies.” All around the table nodded their agreement, but Harry noticed that Eggsy was as still as death at his right-hand side. “First order of business: being our most senior agent, Harry Hart – formerly of the designation _Galahad_ – is promoted to the title of Arthur, as per Kingsman protocol.” There was polite clapping from the others, but Eggsy’s fingernails seemed to dig into the arms of his chair. _But what could possibly be upsetting the boy?_

“Secondly, an introduction for the rest of you to our newest Lancelot,” Merlin gestured toward Roxy, who acknowledged the table with a small nod of her head. “who successfully completed the trials just previous to V-Day. Unfortunately, we’ve had to make use of her skills without the proper swearing-in procedure in recent days, which will be rectified at the end of this meeting.”

“Yes, Merlin.” Roxy agreed, and they moved on.

“It is to be hereby noted by _all_ agents that the title of Galahad was compromised during the investigation into Richmond Valentine,” Harry felt a twinge of regret here. “and for the safety of new agents to come, will be struck from Kingsman registers and retired from use for the next half-century.” At this announcement, Eggsy’s eyes snapped to Harry’s face, perhaps checking to see his reaction to his old codename being retired. Harry kept his face blank, as expected of Arthur.

“And lastly,” Merlin continued, his gaze flicking to Eggsy, before focusing down at his ever-present clipboard. “I would like to introduce to all Knights our newest member at the table – one Gary ‘Eggsy’ Unwin.” Harry watched Eggsy’s face, wanting to memorize this moment as he finished Merlin’s announcement himself.

“Codename: _Excalibur_.”


	4. Chapter 4

From the moment he’d entered the room, Eggsy had been off – he didn’t know if it was because the last time he’d been in the meeting room he’d both narrowly escaped death _and_ killed for the first time, or if it was because he was still unsure how the meeting was going to go, now that Harry was taking on the role of Arthur _officially_. Harry had been fulfilling the duties ever since his return, but the day’s meeting would really set it in stone. Harry arrived – late, as usual – and took his seat. 

And Eggsy froze up. 

He wasn’t a Knight; he technically had no place at the table. He wasn’t a complete idiot, neither – he knew they wouldn’t have told him to attend the meeting if they weren’t going to be getting him involved somehow. But he didn’t freeze up just because he didn’t know where to sit; rather, it was seeing Harry in the Arthur chair that stopped him in his tracks, his mind flashing back to that old prick sitting there and telling him to make a choice. When Harry waved him to Galahad’s seat at his right hand side, he knew it was either sit the fuck down or cause a scene. Sitting in the chair only made it worse. Merlin started speaking, but only snatches of his words were making it through the buzzing in Eggsy’s head. 

“…promoted to the title of Arthur…” _I knew you didn’t belong here. **Get out**._

“…our newest Lancelot…” _It was a fucking **blank** , Eggsy._

“…will be struck from the Kingsman registers and retired from use…” _Arthur, Harry’s dead. **Galahad** is dead._

Here Eggsy jerked his head up, eyes landing on Harry to seek the reassurance of his presence while the words _Galahad is dead_ ran though his mind over, and over, and over. Harry’s face was blank of any emotion, and Eggsy felt cold. 

“Codename: Excalibur.” _My friend will be a proper good King Arthur, and you’ll be his loyal fighter, yeah?_ Eggsy swallowed hard, throat feeling like it was closing in and his vision getting a little spotty at the edges. 

“Excalibur?” He somehow managed to ask in an even tone, despite his inner turmoil. The corner of Harry’s lips twitched, but he didn’t smile.

“I am to understand that you are already very familiar with the title.” Harry’s dry response seemed to loosen the tight bands squeezing his chest, just a little. He nodded his acknowledgement, and dropped his gaze back to the table top, hoping that he hadn’t been making too big a tit of himself through the whole meeting. 

“That concludes all business for today,” Merlin spoke up into the slightly awkward silence that ensued. “Good luck on your individual assignments, Kingsmen, and dinna hesitate to be in touch should you require assistance. Lancelot and Excalibur, please remain seated so that we can go over the paperwork associated with your swearing-in.” As the rest of the Knights’ virtual images flickered out, Eggsy tried to get his breathing under control. _It’s okay, you can do this. Dad always wanted you to do this, didn’ he?_

“Now,” Harry began, his tone all business. “there are several documents that each of you will need to sign – contracts, statements of allegiance and all that usual nonsense.” Merlin placed two packets of paper down on the table, one in front of each of them, and waited patiently as they read through the complicated legal jargon and signed their lives away, _literally_. Eggsy didn’t have to think much about it, until he got to one particular section near the end. 

“What’s this bit about sex, then?” He asked, and his stomach started getting queasy. Roxy raised a brow at him, but didn’t otherwise comment. 

“Ah, that.” Merlin answered, his tone amused. “Occasionally there are missions that require an agent to get particularly _close_ to a target, in order to successfully complete their objectives –”

“In the _biblical sense_?” Roxy interjected with a wry quirk to her lips, obviously remembering the train test. 

“Quite.” Harry answered with a small chuckle, but all Eggsy could think was _How do they all think this is something to laugh over?_ Merlin turned back to Eggsy.

“I’m afraid such targets won’t all be beautiful Swedish princesses, however.” He teased, and Eggsy only just then realized what Merlin _thought_ had happened in the bunker that day, as Harry’s face twisted in a confused frown. The sick feeling in his stomach only increased as he watched Roxy sign off on the section, seemingly without a care in the world. 

“…Do I _have_ to?” He asked, staring down that the paper. He could hear the frown in Harry’s voice, even if he couldn’t see it.

“Of course not, Eggsy. It’s not a requirement; we have agents who opt-out of these kinds of assignments due to religious obligations or because of marriage – we merely need to have your preferences down on record as to the matter.” 

“I don’t want to.” When he chanced a look up, Harry’s face was carefully neutral, but both Roxy and Merlin’s brows were raised in apparent surprise. 

“What happened to ‘Posh girls like a bit of the rough’?” Roxy asked a little incredulously, and Eggsy shrugged a shoulder uncomfortably.

“Didn’ have much of a choice, yeah? It was either get the bird or fail.” _And disappoint Harry_ , is what he didn’t say. “Turned out not to matter though, eh? Since it was just a trick. Is this a trick? Do I actually _have_ to, and you’s just lyin’ again?” His voice was suspicious, and Merlin’s look of surprise dropped to one of confusion and concern.

“What? No, Eggsy. There’s no more of that.”

“…s’what you said last time. And then Arthur told me to shoot me fuckin’ dog.” All three of them were looking at him in varying degrees of shock, like they couldn’t believe he was saying all of this, but as far as Eggsy was concerned he had every _right_ to. He looked Harry in the eyes, as he asked again. “ _Do I have to, Harry?_ ” He figured that of all people, Harry _had_ to know why he was concerned about this – Harry’d known about every other bad thing he’d done, hadn’t he? 

_Just because he never mentions Smith Street don’ mean anythin’._

* * *

Harry took a moment to look at the boy’s face, trying to puzzle out why Eggsy was being so insistent. He couldn’t say that he was wholly surprised that Eggsy would want to pass on honeypot missions, given what he knew about the young man’s feelings on being touched; he could also understand the hesitance to take their words at face-value, in light of how often misdirection _had_ been used during their training. But when it came to such a topic? Did Eggsy really believe that Kingsman – that Harry himself – would _force_ him to give up his bodily autonomy in such a way? The very idea was utterly repugnant. 

And his mention of the train test bore thinking about – when Harry had reviewed the candidates’ reactions to being asked to seduce the young lady, Eggsy had seemed _eager_ for the assignment, bantering with the other two about winning the girl over with his ‘rough’ charms. Harry had assumed at the time that perhaps the boy found the young lady attractive enough that his usual hesitance to be touched was not an issue; but his words just then – _didn’ have much of a choice, yeah?_ – conflicted drastically with that image. It left Harry feeling rather unsettled, if he were being honest.

“No, Eggsy.” He finally answered, with all the solemnity due to how seriously the boy was taking the topic. “This is completely your choice – you will not be punished in any way if you refuse.” Eggsy’s eyes seemed to search his expression for a moment, before his lips pressed firmly together and he crossed the entire section out of his contract with a sharp stroke of his pen. Any levity that Merlin and Roxy had been finding in the situation at the beginning had obviously died a quick death, as both had fallen as silent as the grave. 

“…Eggsy?” Roxy asked after a small silence, and her voice was hesitant like Harry had never heard it before. Eggsy looked up at her, but made no other kind of acknowledgement. “How did you know?” Harry looked to Merlin, but saw that he was not alone in his lack of understanding – _what is the girl asking about?_ He didn’t have long to remain confused. “At the club, during the train test. You knew there was something wrong with the drinks – you were the _only_ one who noticed.” Eggsy continued to stare at her in silence, though whether through a reluctance to answer or not knowing _how_ to, Harry had no idea. “How many times do you have to taste something, before you can recognize it when others don’t?” 

Harry’s heart felt as though it had frozen still in his chest. _Surely not_. But there was no other explanation, was there?

“You don’ want me to answer that, Rox.” And with that one quiet utterance, Harry’s frozen heart shattered. 

“I believe that’s an answer in of itself.” She replied, devastation pulling at her voice. “Eggsy – ”

“This ain’t up fer discussion.” He cut her off sharply, voice laced with so much anger that Harry felt himself physically flinch. Eggsy seemed to deflate after his outburst, shoulders slumping and a hand coming up to rub wearily at his eyes. 

“Your preferences have been noted, Excalibur.” Merlin stated after a quick clearing of his throat, putting them back on a professional footing, though Harry noticed that his hands were gripping his clipboard so tightly that he thought it just might begin to crack. “If you would both sign the final page of your contracts, we will continue on.”

Merlin handled the rest of the necessities, and Harry permitted himself to tune the conversation out. _This paints everything in an entirely new light._ Harry had assumed the boy’s aversion to touch was due to the physical abuse he had experienced at home – but if that wasn’t so? Had someone drugged and taken advantage of the boy? And multiple times, judging by Eggsy’s very careful non-answer to Roxy’s question. _But who would dare? And when?_ Certainly before he’d been brought in for training, but that didn’t really provide Harry with much to go on. He was so consumed in his thoughts that he hadn’t even noticed Merlin and Roxy exiting the room, until Eggsy cleared his throat.

“I thought you knew, but you didn’, did ya?” He asked quietly, eyes glued to the table and face unhappy.

“No.” Harry replied, unsure of how to navigate the conversation without causing harm. “I had noticed that you seemed to prefer not to be touched, but I had assumed – incorrectly, apparently – that it was due to your step-father’s abuse.” Eggsy finally looked up at him, his lips twisting in disgust.

“Well, I mean, it _was_ , yeah.” He said, and Harry’s face became positively _thunderous_. “It weren’t – not like _that_ , yeah? He never tried none o’ that _himself_ , he just knew lots o’ people who… well.” Harry could feel a sharp ache starting up in the scar tissue over his temple, and his hands began to shake with his rage.

“The fact that he never did so himself does not make such a situation any _better_ , Eggsy.” He said, somewhat chidingly, and the boy snorted quietly.

“Believe me, bruv. I’m aware.” Eggsy’s face turned uncertain. “But the… the not touchin’ thing. That was… that started earlier. That weren’t just because of them.” Harry could hear very clearly in his voice the _I don’t want to talk about it_ , so he left it be. 

“Eggsy, my dear,” He leaned forward in his seat in earnestness, and placed a hand on the table close to Eggsy’s, but still with some distance. “I _promise_ you, that the organization will never ask such a thing of you, and that I will endeavour to never place you in a situation where you will feel so uncomfortable.” Eggsy was watching his face, eyes seemingly narrowed in thought. 

“Why d’you keep doin’ that?” He asked, and Harry blinked in confusion.

“Beg pardon?” _Why do I keep doing what?_

“You keep callin’ me ‘my dear’. Have done ever since you came back.” Harry felt like his stomach dropped to the floor. _Shit_. Here he had sworn that he would give the young man his space, to not saddle him with the ridiculous feelings of a tired old man, and all he’d accomplished was to unknowingly make said feelings all the more obvious. _Bloody well done. How could you not even notice that you were calling him that?_ Harry scrambled for what could be considered a reasonable explanation.

“Because you _are_ dear to me, Eggsy. I would like to think that you and I could be considered friends, though if I have been wrong in that assumption, or if my referring to you in such a way makes you uncomfortable, I will of course correct myself. I _do_ care about you and your wellbeing, regardless.” Eggsy was silent for a moment longer, and Harry began to internally panic. _What if I’ve ruined everything?_

“Nah, s’fine. I don’ mind it.” Harry blinked at him for a moment, hesitant to feel relieved quite yet. “And yeah, I like ta think we’s friends too, Harry.” Eggsy’s smile was almost blinding, and he couldn’t help but smile back at him. 

“Ah, yes. Good, I am very glad you think so, as well.” _Friends_ , Harry thought to himself, _I can handle ‘friends’. It’s much more preferable than merely ‘colleagues’._

* * *

_So he hadn’t known after all_ , Eggsy thought to himself, unsure of whether he was relieved by the idea or not. _Best to just let it lie for now_. Hearing Harry say that he wanted them to be friends had been an unexpected plus to an otherwise horrible conversation; Eggsy had been unsure, after Harry came back, of how he was supposed to act around the older man, and it had made conversations and such between the two of them a bit stiff and awkward. At least now he knew where he stood – he knew that it was alright to be that little bit familiar, that Harry wouldn’t mind. _Bein’ friends with him is better than nothin’ at all._

“So,” Eggsy said, reaching for a topic to break the silence. “Excalibur?” Harry’s mouth twitched in a little smile.

“Yes. The day that I… returned… your mother called you such, and so when sitting down with Merlin to choose a title for you, I admit I allowed myself to fall into a bit of whimsy. I hope you don’t mind?” Eggsy shook his head. “I assume that ‘Eggsy’ is supposed to be a diminutive of the name?” At this, he couldn’t help but let out a little laugh.

“Yeah. I was still just a wee thing when dad gave me the name, and couldn’ really say it right, y’know? So’s dad tried to shorten it fer me, but I mangled that up too. Just sort of stuck, after that.” His smile dimmed, just a little. “Weren’t long after that, what you come callin’ to us.” Harry’s smiled dimmed as well, and Eggsy tried to put them back on happier footing. “Did ya ever hear where it came from? Did dad ever tell ya?”

“No, I’m afraid not.” 

“Dad told me one day that he wanted to play ‘Knights of the Round Table’, and said he was gonna be Sir Lancelot – ‘course, now I’m wise to his shit, ain’t I?” He asked with a grin that Harry answered with a dry chuckle. “He said he had a friend that he’d bring ‘round to play King Arthur for us, and I said I didn’t want to be no knight, that I wanted to be a bad ass sword instead.” Harry frowned in confusion.

“Your father thought Chester was the biggest twat he’d ever had the displeasure to meet; I have a hard time picturing him planning to bring him home to play with his son.” Eggsy’s grin only grew. _Ah, I can’t wait to see his face._

“Use yer brain, Harry. Obvious that he weren’ talking about fuckin’ _Chester_. He told me his friend was a kind man, that would make a good King Arthur _one day_.” He waited for the lightbulb to switch on, which to Harry’s credit didn’t take too long. 

“He was talking about me?” Harry’s voice held a bit of disbelief, and Eggsy couldn’t help but laugh.

“Apparently a bit of a fortune teller, my old dad.” He said with a chuckle. “He said that one day you’d be our King Arthur, and I’d be your loyal fighter. And hey, look at us now, eh bruv?” Harry just shook his head, finally letting a bit of a grin loose. “Ah, speakin’ of knights and such – which of them chairs am I supposed to be takin’ when we’s all together at the table?” He asked, gesturing down the length of the decidedly _not_ round table. _Fuckin’ stupid, that is_. Harry’s answering smile was dazzling.

“Why, precisely where you are. Does not Excalibur belong at Arthur’s right hand?” 

It wasn’t so difficult to be in the chair, all of a sudden. _That’s right – this ain’t like that fuckin’ prick tryin’ to do me in. This is me and Harry, like we’s always been._

“Yes, my King.” He answered as a tease, and laughed when Harry looked a bit startled. 

“…Right.” The older man said eventually. “Next order of business will be to get you fitted for a few more suits, since it is my understanding that you still only have the one. Also, I had wanted to speak with Dagonet about having some of your _usual_ attire created from our bulletproof materials as well.” The thought that Harry wanted something made that would be _special_ , just for _him_ , made Eggsy flush warm with pleasure. 

“ _Yes_ , Harry!”


	5. Chapter 5

Their meeting with Dagonet was _awesome_. When they’d descended the stairs from the meeting room, Eggsy’d been practically bouncing at Harry’s side – it was almost pathetic how disgustingly happy such a little thing from the man could make him, if he was being honest with himself. Eggsy hadn’t asked Harry for his reasons _why_ he wanted to have clothes made just for him; he’d rather bask in feeling like he was special to Harry somehow and leave it at that.

He’d had to suffer through getting his measurements done again, since he was still recovering some of the weight and muscle tone that he’d lost while Harry was… _gone_. But this time, Harry was sat on the small divan in the fitting room with him, looking every inch the king he now was, as Dagonet flitted around Eggsy with his tape measure. The first time he’d been fitted – after Harry had left him there to go chase his lead with Valentine – it had been almost torture to stand still and let it happen. But with Harry sitting there, his eyes following Dagonet’s every move, it was uncomfortable for an entirely _different_ reason. Because that meant that Harry’s eyes were unintentionally running _all over him_ as the tailor moved about. _Is it getting a bit warm in here?_

Eggsy couldn’t stop his eyes from repeatedly finding Harry’s lanky form in the reflections of the three-way mirror, and had to ruthlessly hold back a flush when he jerked his gaze away one time, only to find Dagonet giving him a dry smirk. _Fucking cheeky old man_ , he thought to himself a little bit fondly. 

“All finished, sir.” The tailor announced at last, and Eggsy nodded his head in silent thanks. He was still getting used to _anyone_ calling him ‘sir’, showing respect that he’d never gotten before, let alone the weirdness of people _older than him_ doing it. With the measurements done, they exited back into the main shop to discuss materials and all that other boring shite, and Eggsy was grateful to not be in such close quarters anymore. 

“Eggsy?” At the call of his name, he jerked his head up, only just realizing that he’d been lost in thought again. _That’s happening way too fuckin’ much, these days._

“What?” He said, and marvelled over how _both_ of the older gents could pull off that judgmental eyebrow so well. He rolled his eyes. “Pardon me, gentlemen. Was there some matter of import I have failed to properly address?” He said cheekily, putting on his best posh accent. Eggsy wondered if Harry had realized yet that he managed it by doing a sort of really camp impression of Harry himself. _Probably not_. It was worth it to see Harry try to fight a smile.

“Good lord, that sounds unnatural coming from you.” It was said so dryly in Harry’s even tones that it actually took Eggsy a second before he burst into laughter.

“Don’ it just, guv.” He replied, catching Dagonet shaking his head at the two of them and smiling from the corner of his eye.

“We were asking for your input on what colours you would like your suits to be this time.” Harry explained, a sort of soft look on his face that Eggsy couldn’t really pin down. He shrugged his shoulders instead.

“Dunno, Harry. You’s the expert – you decide.” 

“…If you’re certain you’d like to leave it up to me?” Eggsy could hear the question buried in his tone, and nodded his head.

“Yeah, bruv. Have at it.” He sort of allowed himself to switch off while the older men bickered over fit, material and colours, but it didn’t escape Eggsy’s notice that when all was said and done, his new suits were all going to closely resemble Harry’s favourites of his own. _Can’t blame a bruv for stickin’ to what’s familiar, I guess._ Harry looked very pleased with himself regardless, and that was good enough for Eggsy. 

Anything was worth seeing Harry smile.

* * *

Their meeting with Dagonet was akin to _torture_. Clearly, Harry hadn’t thought it through properly when he’d invited himself into the fitting room for Eggsy’s measurements. The meeting that morning had been the first time that Harry had properly seen Eggsy in the suit that he’d commissioned for him during training, and good lord the young man was _beautiful_. 

Well, Eggsy was _always_ beautiful, no matter what clothing he had on, but to see him so… _polished_ , was a novelty to be sure. It only got worse when the tailor had Eggsy strip off his jacket. The boy was smaller than Harry in many ways, not the least of which being his height, but he was in no way delicate of stature. Harry himself tended to be long and lean, but Eggsy had a compact strength to him despite his shortness in relation. Even with having lost some of his weight and muscle tone, the boy was still wide at the shoulders and chest, still thick at his legs from the parkour he regularly enjoyed. If Harry were to be compared to the pointed danger of a fencing master, then Eggsy was the raw power of a boxing champion – both of them graceful and deadly, just in different ways.

Catching Eggsy watching him through the mirror’s reflection out of the corner of his eye, Harry realized just where exactily he’d been staring. _Fucking hell_. He hoped he hadn’t made the poor boy feel uncomfortable, after having just promised him at the end of the meeting that he would do his best to avoid such a thing. _For Christ sakes, Hart. You used to have much better control over yourself._

Hearing Eggsy’s affectation of a posh accent was… _strange_. It seemed so wrong, so unnatural on the boy – that wasn’t to say that his voice wasn’t lovely coming out all crisp and clear, but rather that Harry preferred him sounding like his natural self. 

“Don’ it just, guv.” He switched back, and Harry could feel something inside of himself soften at the beloved sound. It was unfortunate that the young man would need to use his affectation in order to blend in on most missions, but Harry would endeavour to make sure that Eggsy would never feel that he must maintain it in his ‘off time’. He still remembered the morning he’d brought them to the shop for Eggsy’s first fitting, and the boy had asked if Harry was going to teach him to ‘speak proper’. He’d meant what he’d said that day, about a gentleman being such despite his accent – he only hoped that Eggsy had taken his words to heart.

He could admit to being pleased that Eggsy trusted him to make the decisions on his new suits, and found himself wholly taking advantage of that trust – Dagonet raised an eyebrow at him when he essentially commissioned replicas of his own favourites for the young man, but he couldn’t bring himself to care all that much. Actually seeing Eggsy in his blue suit – so much like one of Harry’s own – had made a possessive little beast curl within his chest; it was so very close to what it would probably be like to see the boy _in his clothes_ , and Harry found himself unable to resist. So long as Eggsy had no objections, Harry would shamelessly put his stamp on him in any way he could, and fuck the consequences. Subtlety had never been his strong point, regardless. 

“Now, onto our next order of business.” Harry instructed, and saw Eggsy perk up. _Ah, so he was paying at least some attention_. “I would also like to have some of our young man’s _preferred_ attire created out of our bulletproof weave.” Dagonet blinked at him, the only outward sign that Harry had managed to throw the older man with his request.

“Sir?” 

“Kingsman finds itself in a new era,” He explained. “not only are our incoming agents increasingly younger, but the threats that we must face are as well. Our agents must, therefore, be able to blend in adequately when the situation calls for it, and a bespoke suit just does not fit for some venues, I’m afraid.” He pointedly ignored Eggsy’s muttered, “You mean _most_.”

“I refuse to let Eg… _my agents_ … enter a dangerous environment inadequately protected for the sake of needing more casual clothing for the situation.” Dagonet’s expression was once again sly and knowing, and Harry bit back on the urge to blush. Instead, he picked up a tablet from the front desk and handed it to Eggsy. “If you would be so kind as to bring up some reference images for Dagonet on styles, we can then talk materials and colour once again.”

“ _Yes_ , Harry!” The young man said, and he was quickly coming to associate the words with untamed glee. After a few moments, Eggsy had the photo library of the tablet filled with images of various zip-up jackets, polo shirts, tees, henleys, tight fitting denims, and cotton trackies – all things that Harry had seen the boy in at one point or another. What threw him off-balance, however, was when they began to discuss colours. 

Eggsy, previous to Harry’s unfortunate absence, had seemed to prefer to wear light greys and soft blues, with the occasional pop of loud colour, such as that truly horrendous black and yellow number he’d worn during the train test. However, the colours he was gravitating to in his discussion with the tailor were much more subdued – darker greys, deep navy blues, and _black_. Quite a lot of black. In fact, now that Harry thought upon it, he hadn’t seen Eggsy wear anything other than black and dark grey since his return, until the blue suit that morning. He did not have to be a psychologist to think that this perhaps _meant_ something. The thought made Harry inordinately sad.

“Perhaps something lighter for this henley shirt,” He interrupted, filled with the sudden urge to see the boy in _colour_ of some kind. “a subtle basil green? With slightly darker buttons, I think.” He said, narrowing his eyes consideringly at the image on the screen.

“Green?” Eggsy asked, carefully, but Harry was too caught in his thoughts to notice. 

“Hmm? Yes. It’d be lovely with your eyes, I’m sure.” He said distractedly, only realizing what he’d done when Dagonet coughed lightly into his fist, more than likely covering up laughter. _What has happened to my control over my own goddamn mouth?! I’m a fucking **spy** , for Christ sakes._ Acting as though nothing was out of the norm, Harry turned to look at Eggsy. 

Eggsy looked… Harry wasn’t sure how Eggsy looked. His expression seemed caught somewhere between confusion, awe, and perhaps _pleasure_? There was no smile on his face, but Harry didn’t think that the boy was upset over his remark. 

_At least, I hope he isn’t_. For all that Eggsy used to be an open book, since the events of V-Day and his return, Harry was having the devil of a time trying to interpret what was going on in his brain.

* * *

After Harry had not-died, Eggsy hadn’t wanted to wear much by way of colours. When his mum had made an off-hand comment about it, the only response that he’d been able to come up with was that they hurt his eyes; the real reason was much more devastating, depsite sounding much more mawkish – it was simply that without Harry, his world didn’t have colour no more. His mum hadn’t said anything; as always, she understood.

If he was being honest, he hadn’t really noticed that he’d continued to wear his mourning colours even after Harry’s return – he just sort of… _had_. He couldn’t put his finger on the reason _why_. It was because of this that when talking his casual clothes over with Dagonet, he’d just sort of naturally defaulted to the shadows he’d already been living in. When Harry spoke up about _green_ of all things, it’d somehow halted him in his tracks. 

“Green?” He’d asked, poking and prodding at the idea in his head, not entirely sure if he liked it or not. 

“Hmm? Yes. It’d be lovely with your eyes, I’m sure.” Was the absent reply, and Eggsy could do nothing but blink at him. His brain was an awful swish of thoughts – _Harry’s noticed my eyes? When? Why? They ain’t nothin’ special, so why would he?_ Dagonet gave a little cough, looking amused, and Harry’s shoulders immediately tightened. _Did he not mean to say that, then?_ When Harry turned to look at him, his face was perfectly composed, but Eggsy could still see the tension in his frame. They stared at each other for an age before Dagonet broke the silence.

“Shall I make note of the green, sir?” Eggsy blinked, before averting his gaze back down to the tablet, picturing how Harry’s choice would look in his head. 

“Yeah, alright.” 

Harry was there, _alive_ – had been for weeks. _You don’ have to mourn anymore, you idiot. He’s right there in front o’ ya_. If Harry wanted to see him in green… Then green he would wear. _Maybe it’s time to start lettin’ the colours back in, after all._

By the end, the clothes were still mostly dark grey, navy, and black – but there was also a soft lilac tee, a royal blue polo, and Harry’s green henley in the mix. It was a good start. 

Most of their trip on the bullet train back to the mansion had been a quiet affair; Harry seemed to be a little bit lost in thought, and Eggsy was hesitant to interrupt him… But there was something important he needed to know.

“Harry?” He asked tentatively, and the older man’s gaze switched from the train floor to his face. “Somethin’s been buggin’ me, y’see… and… well, I was wonderin’…” _Come on, Eggsy – it’s one simple fuckin’ question._

“Whatever is the matter, my dear?” Concern was beginning to pull at the corners of Harry’s eyes – concern for _him_ – and that wasn’t what this was supposed to be about.

“Are you alright?” He finally blurted out, and Harry looked – _what’s that word again?_ – non-plussed. 

“Beg pardon?” 

“It’s just… After everythin’ that happened. Has anyone asked you if you’re alright?” Harry’s expression seemed to sort of _melt_ , and what could be called a fond smile was pulling at the corner of his mouth. 

“I assure you, my dear, that all ill-effects from my injury have healed sufficiently.” Eggsy shook his head.

“That’s… that’s good to know, yeah. But that ain’t completely what I meant.” Here Harry’s expression turned into some weird twist of _fond_ but _sad_. 

“I appreciate the concern, Eggsy. I will be alright, never fear.” 

“Don’ think I didn’ notice that _will be_ ain’t the same as _I am_.” He said sternly, but Harry only gave that sad half-smile again.

“To insist that I am perfectly fine with the events and their ramifications would be untrue, and I will not lie to you, Eggsy. Therefore, the best I can offer you is that I _will be_ in the future.” Eggsy nodded, knowing he’d rather hear a hard truth than ever have Harry lie to him. He swallowed down his nerves, before asking the other question that had been burning at his brain.

“Is it awful? The thoughts of… all _that_? Does it bother you much?” He shifted uneasily in his seat, feeling that maybe he was pushing his nose into things that weren’t any of his business, but persisted out of worry for Harry. The man himself merely settled back further in his seat, looking contemplative and serious. 

“It’s fucking terrible.” He finally said, and Eggsy felt like maybe his heart was breaking all over again. “I know on an intellectual level that my actions inside that church were not my own, that I had no control over what my body was doing, but it is difficult to convince myself that I am not to blame when the base fact of the matter is that it was _my_ hands committing such atrocities. It is, I believe, that lack of control over my own body and the fear that such a thing wrought that I am struggling with the most.” 

“That… I _know_ it’s not really the same, right – but that last bit, what you said. I maybe know a bit about what that’s like.” Eggsy knew that his experiences with ‘lack of control over his own body’ didn’t really hold a candle to Harry’s – he hadn’t _unwillingly murdered a church full of people_ , for fuck sakes – but he wanted Harry to know he could listen all the same, if the older gent wanted to. He scratched uneasily at the side of his neck, hoping he hadn’t overstepped. 

“Yes, I imagine you would.” Harry said gently, after a moment. “Thank you, Eggsy. It means a great deal to me for you to offer such a thing.” He shrugged his shoulders in an uncomfortable twitch.

“Ain’t nothin’.” He mumbled, but was glad Harry wasn’t angry with him for being nosey all the same. 

“Oh, my dear, but it is. Never devalue the worth of your friendship – in my time as an active agent, I learned quickly that the people we can share such things with are very few, and all the more precious for it.” 

A pleased little curl found its way to his lips. Their friendship was _precious_ to Harry – _can’t beat that_.

* * *

The generosity of the boy would never cease to amaze him. For Eggsy to have been through so many ordeals in his young life, and to still come away from them with the biggest, most loving heart that Harry had ever had the honour to witness… It was simply baffling. 

He’d suffered so much, especially in recent months, and there he was wallowing in concern for _Harry_. It was enough to make him want to hold Eggsy to him, to surround him and never let another awful thing from this earth touch such a pure soul. _Who knew that love could make one wax poetic so bloody often?_

He couldn’t keep the small smile from his face as the bullet train pulled in at the underground hangar, their exit from the car unremarked in the empty room. Harry turned toward Eggsy with the intention to make his excuses and return to his office, but halted himself at the nervous expression that the boy wore. 

“Eggsy?” He asked, unsure whether to be concerned or not. 

“Could I just – ” Eggsy began, but cut himself off. His hands slowly came up, reaching towards Harry’s face, and every muscle in Harry’s body went still; he had the absurd thought that if he moved at all, Eggsy would run off like a frightened rabbit. He could see a fine tremor shaking the boy’s fingers as they came closer. _Perhaps not so absured a thought after all_. The very tips of Eggsy’s fingers pressed to the outside edges of Harry’s glasses, and he gently slid the frames down off of his face, folding the arms and tucking the whole works into Harry’s breast pocket. 

Harry was hardly breathing, he was holding himself so perfectly still. 

Eggsy’s shaking hands came back up, and he watched as his throat bobbed with a hard swallow. Harry felt the barest whisper of a touch to the hinge at the right side of his jaw, just a step away from cupping his cheek, as the pads of Eggsy’s other hand softly pressed down on the ugly scar tissue at his left temple – so soft, so light, not unlike the butterflies that Harry liked to collect. 

“I’m glad you’re here, Harry.” Eggsy choked out, and his eyes began to look just a little bit glassy. 

“As am I, my dear.” He replied quietly, not wanting to break whatever spell held them in that moment. Eggsy breathed out a shaking sigh, before his hands dropped back to his sides. Without another word, the boy turned and practically ran from the room. Harry let him go, let him have the space he so obviously needed, still too struck by what had just happened to do much else.

Eggsy had just touched him, for the first time. Such a little thing, but so completely monumentous. 

_Eggsy had **touched** him._


	6. Chapter 6

He ran as if the very hounds of hell were nipping at his heels, all the way to the locker rooms outside the Kingsman gym. His hands were shaking, his breaths were coming in erratic fits and starts, and his heart was pounding so hard it was probably just one good thump away from exiting his fucking chest. _Calm down, Eggsy. Just fuckin’ calm down._ He started tearing off his suit like a man possessed, scrambling for the trackies and A-line vest that he kept in his locker for working out, hardly even registering what his hands were doing. 

_Fuckin’ Christ, I just touched him. I just touched **Harry**._ But not just any kind of touch, no – he’d touched Harry’s _face_. Eggsy backed up until he hit a wall, his knees giving out so that he slid down the thing until his arse was planted firmly on solid ground. Trembling hands came up to tangle in his longer hair as his thoughts continued to swirl around. 

Here was the thing – the face, to Eggsy, was like sacred ground. After his dad had kicked it, the only gentle touches that he’d ever had on his face had been his mum’s cold, often half-broke, fingers and eventually Daisy’s pudgy little fists nudging at his cheeks. Aside from those, it had been years of nothing but slaps and punches, or having his face shoved roughly into some surface or another. One could say that he was used to a touch to his face hurting more often than not, yeah? So whenever he’d needed – or _had_ to – touch others, he usually avoided the face; his mum and his little girl being the obvious exceptions, but even then it was rare for him to do it. 

But apparently not with Harry. _What the fuck even?_ Usually when Eggsy found himself _wanting_ to touch someone – like whenever Rox had needed comforting about her fear of heights – he would go for the hands; a quick and reassuring clasp of the fingertips, or sometimes a nudge or quick grip of a shoulder. _Never_ the face. 

But as they’d sat in the bullet train, and he’d listened to Harry say that he wasn’t quite alright, Eggsy had stared at that starburst of scarring on Harry’s temple and had only been able to focus on the idea that Harry may be alright _physically_ , but that _mentally_ he could still maybe lose him. Eggsy knew a lot about what mental scarring could do. As they’d hopped out of the train, that’s all he could think about – and he’d been filled with this _pull_ , this terrible _need_ to lay hands on Harry and reassure himself that he would be alright. To press his fingers to that awful fucking scar and know that it wasn’t a threat anymore. 

_I didn’t even ask him if it was alright to touch him first_. Eggsy knew that most people didn’t have the hang-ups that he did over it, but he’d still been raised by his mum being told that you didn’t _ever_ touch someone unless you were a hundred percent certain they was fine with it – of course he knew that she’d meant that more in the _don’t you dare touch a girl unless she wants it_ kind of way, but Eggsy had always figured that kind of rule should apply to anyone. He didn’t _think_ that Harry’d had a problem with it – he’d gone so still and hadn’t made one move to stop Eggsy from doing it after all – but he knew better than most that you can’t always take someone’s body language at face-value. _I’ve lied with my body plenty o’ times meself, haven’ I?_

He dropped a hand from it’s tangle in his hair, grabbing the Kingsman medal that swung around his neck and squeezing, feeling the little ridges dig into him. He’d taken to wearing the thing again after V-Day; it had been the first thing that Harry had ever given him, had been his only tie to ‘the kind man’ when he’d been a growing boy. The medal had come to mean so much more to him than just a reminder of his dad’s death – it was one piece of Harry that had been special, almost like a secret, between the two of them. After he’d thought Harry had died, and they’d initially moved him into the older man’s house, he’d been surrounded with his personal effects – he could look at the newspapers on the office wall and remember Harry telling him stories, but it would always turn to remembering being sat at the desk and watching him die instead; he could stand in the dining room and think about Harry teaching him to eat like a proper gent, but it would inevitably become the memory of sitting at the table, in _Harry’s chair_ , as the burn of brandy and tears scorched his throat. 

So, you see, the medal was really the only thing he had. The medal was _take care of this_ and a comforting hand on his shoulder; it was _I gave you that medal_ and freedom from the consequences of his mistakes. It was a phone call and an opportunity to leave the hell he called life behind – it was a promise, a safety net, it was a manifestation of Harry’s belief in him. 

So the medal had gone back around his neck, not as some nebulous _favour_ to be called on, but as his own reminder that Harry had thought he was _good enough_. That Harry had known he was so much more than some trash off the Estate. The medal had gone back around his neck as a reminder that no matter how bad the day was, no matter how much he was suffering, Harry had thought him strong. And perhaps, just a little bit, the medal had gone back around his neck as a promise – Eggsy’s own secret little promise to the memory of Harry, that Eggsy belonged to him. That he would _never_ feel for anyone else in quite the same way that he felt for Harry; that he would never _love_ someone the same way. 

It was an unspoken vow, from Eggsy to Harry, and one that he still maintained… No matter the fact that now Harry was there, _alive_. Eggsy would take his feelings and his vow to the grave, if that’s what it took, but he would continue to belong to Harry regardless of the fact that Harry would never belong to him in return. 

In Eggsy’s mind, the medal marked him as _Harry’s_ , and it was a comfort to him. 

Feeling his frantic breathing begin to slow as he held his medal tightly, he pressed his eyes shut and concentrated instead on stilling the trembling of his fingers. _Get yerself under control. Go to the gym, beat the ever-lovin’ **fuck** out o’ some sand bags, and then find Daisy and take her to the gardens. If Harry’s mad you touched him, he’s a proper enough gent to come tell ya so._ Feeling better once he had a plan, Eggsy forced his tightened muscles to relax. 

Slowly pressing himself back up the wall, trying to shake off the last of his unsteadiness, he could only thank whoever was listening that there hadn’t been anyone else in the locker room to witness his little break down – bad enough that he’d run away from Harry like an idiot. Tucking the medal back under the material of his vest, he let out a harsh breath and headed for the door.

* * *

“Abso-fucking-lutely _not_.” Harry’s voice was firm, brooking no argument, but he knew that would never deter Merlin in a hundred years. True to form, the bald-headed bastard only rolled his eyes at Harry’s dramatics. 

“Today is your offical instatement as Arthur; you _have_ to maintain relations with the heads of our international branches. So yes, Harry, you are required to show those arriving around the fucking building and make nice.” Merlin’s arms were crossed tightly, rumpling his ridiculous jumper, and a scowl was firmly fixed on his face. Harry sighed.

“Fine. But you _owe_ me.” He conceded, only for Merlin to let out a snort.

“I dinna owe you a damn thing for doing your fucking _job_.” He was lucky they’d been friends for over twenty-five years. _Very_ lucky. Harry let out a little growl of frustration, but turned to go meet the wankers regardless. _I fucking hate being Arthur already_. When he spotted Sofia, the head of their Italian branch, he inwardly cursed Merlin even further – the woman could neuter a man with the power of her words alone, but was also a notorious flirt. She didn’t take rejection well, and Harry’s _proclivities_ had ensured that just such a thing had happened in years past. He wondered if she was still holding a grudge. 

“Arthur.” She greeted, a sharp smile upon blood red lips. Her dark brown hair was gorgeously styled, and her suit hugged every curve – more than one of the other branch heads seemed to be having trouble tearing their gazes away, but Harry could only internally sigh. He was already picturing the day ending with her attempting to murder one of them.

“Cosimo.” He greeted back, dreading the whole affair, before turning to address the group at large. “As it has been several years since any of you have had an occasion to visit, Merlin and myself thought a tour of the grounds would be appropriate. If you’d all like to follow me?” 

Ultimately, he should have known better. Their tour around the grounds had been abhorrently dull, in Harry’s opinion, but the other branch heads had seemed fairly interested in the developments that had been made around the place – Wilhelm, of the German branch, had been particularly enthralled by the mechanisms required to flood the candidate dorms – but Harry should have known that the proverbial shit would hit the fan at some point. Their last stop on the tour before retiring to Arthur’s sitting rooms was the Kingsman gym, wherein they found both Roxy and Eggsy engaged in their separate training routines; Roxy appeared to be beating her previous record on the treadmill, whereas Eggsy was in the process of murdering one of the sand bags that swung from the ceiling, the old medal Harry had gifted him thumping lightly into his chest, and his hands taped against the friction but otherwise no gloves to be seen. 

He also wasn’t wearing a shirt. _Good lord_. 

The slightly loose waistband of his trackies slipped lower with each violent swing, putting more and more of his sweat soaked skin on display, and Harry found himself _completely_ incapable of tearing his eyes away. It was for this reason that when the soft-looking trousers slipped another half-inch lower, so as to almost be _indecent_ , he noticed some kind of mark – _perhaps a scar?_ – so low on the boy’s abdomen as to be just an inch or two above his… well. It was certainly an area of the young man not usually on display, in any case. The quick glimpse of the mark that Harry had gotten was not sufficient to determine what exactly it _was_ , unfortunately. 

“Agents Lancelot and Excalibur.” Merlin spoke into the room, simulatenously gaining the young ones’ attention and serving as an introduction to the others. Both Eggsy and Roxy stopped their movements, Roxy dismounting the treadmill and joining them where the group was gathered near Eggsy’s position. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed Sofia licking her lips and looking the boy up and down as though some kind of prime buffet. _Oh no_. That same possessive little beast that had made its presence known to Harry that morning while discussing Eggsy’s suits once again reared its head. _Don’t even think about it, you little tart_. Eggsy, too, seemed to have caught her look – his hands had slipped down to surreptitiously pull the loose trackies back up higher on his hips, all whilst uneasily watching her from the corner of his eye. 

“Afternoon, Arthur.” The boy greeted, and Harry suppressed a smile. 

“Excalibur.” He turned to include Roxy as well, giving her a little nod of his head. “Lancelot. Allow me to introduce some of our other branch heads – Wilhem of Germany, Fernando of Spain, Oleg of Russia, Sverker of Sweden, and Cosimo of Italy.” He indicated each individual as he named them, somewhat surprised to see a smile tilt at Erik’s – that is, _Sverker’s_ – mouth. 

“ _Excalibur_ , is it?” Erik asked, and the corner of Eggsy’s mouth pulled into a slight smile, while Harry got the overwhelming feeling that he was missing something. 

“Good afternoon, Sverker.” He replied, though Harry noticed that he continued to flick uneasy glances at Sofia from the corner of his eye, and apparently for good reason – she was was eyeing the boy’s chest and stomach with rapt interest. Eggsy took a couple steps backward, retrieving a light grey vest from where it’d been draped over a weight rack and pulling it on to cover himself; Harry noticed that he did all this without once turning his back on the group. _Is Sofia’s gaze really unsettling him that much?_ The thought made him frown. 

“Her Majesty sends along her warmest regards.” Erik said to the boy with a little bow of respect. _What?_ “She has been most worried about how you are faring.” Eggsy blinked in apparent surprise, but a genuine smile graced his handsome face soon after. 

“Please send along my warm regards, also.” He said, all smooth posh tones that made Harry frown even more. “And reassure Her Majesty that I am well.” Erik nodded his acceptance of this, bowing slightly in respect once again, while the others regarded Eggsy with newfound curiosity. _What in the bloody fucking hell just happened?_

“I’m impressed, Arthur.” Sofia purred from where she stood at his side. “Agents that have Swedish royalty _worrying_ about them.” Harry saw Eggsy’s eyes narrow at the comment, so slightly that the others would have missed it. 

“It is Princess Tilde’s compassion that makes her such a fine leader for her people.” The boy replied, a rebuke buried in his tone; normally Harry would have taken issue with such a blatant display of disrespect to a superior, but he was too thrown by the strange happenings to really care overmuch. _When the hell did Eggsy have time to meet, let alone become **dear to** , Swedish royalty?_

“Well said!” Erik chimed in, his joviality breaking the growing tension in the room. Harry saw one of Sofia’s eyebrows minutely twitch up, but she didn’t appear to be angered – instead, she seemed _interested_ , which had the potential to be much more dangerous.

“And how have you enjoyed your visit so far, ladies and gentlemen?” Roxy asked, neatly drawing attention away from Eggsy, much to Harry’s relief. The others made polite murmurings in response, and it wasn’t long before Merlin began skillfully nudging them out the door. Harry and Roxy both remained rooted to their spots when it became clear that Sofia had no intention of following the others out of the room. _Like hell am I leaving her alone with the two of them._

“I’m gratified to see a woman within the knights’ ranks, Harry.” She said, tipping what actually looked like a genuine smile in Roxy’s direction. Roxy nodded in acknowledgement, but to Harry’s eyes she looked just a wary as he felt. 

“It was far past time, in my opinion.” He responded carefully, and Sofia grinned all the wider. 

“We Italians have always been further ahead of you English in such things.” Harry pressed his lips into a polite smile, but said nothing more. 

“Tell me, Excalibur,” She continued while taking a flirtatious step closer to Eggsy. “does the British branch make a habit of adorning their agents in such a way?” Her fingers stretched toward the chain still visible around Eggsy’s neck, and Harry found himself twitching into motion in an effort to stop her. He needn’t have bothered.

Eggsy’s hand snapped out, quite like a striking snake, and gripped Sofia by the wrist in a firm hold – his face was stony with the kind of restrained menace that Harry had rarely seen from him. 

“That’s private, thank you.” He said quietly, staring her down. Sofia’s eyebrows had practically climbed her forehead in surprise – it was clear that Eggsy wasn’t hurting her with his hold, but neither was he letting her go. “It’s bad manners to touch someone without their consent, madam, so if I release you I would appreciate your respect of that fact.” Sofia settled back slightly on her heels, studying Eggsy’s face with a considering look. Finally, she gave a small nod, and Harry was surprised to see that her expression had – _softened_ – somehow. 

“Of course.” She responded. “My apologies, Excalibur, for making you uncomfortable.” Even Roxy seemed to blink in surprise; Harry had expected Sofia to lash out in anger at being denied, and was stunned to note that her apology seemed genuine.

* * *

“Thank you.” Eggsy replied, still wary, but released the woman’s wrist all the same. She was a gorgeous creature, of that there wasn’t any doubt, but he’d never been a fan of those that seemed to think that their looks entitled them to things – things like being able to touch whoever or whatever they wanted. He took a step further away, reaching up to squeeze a hand around his medal once again. _The fuckin’ nerve of her, tryin' to touch it._ The medal was _his_ , was _Harry’s_. She didn’t have a right.

Eggsy knew he was being slightly ridiculous, but his emotions had already been in such a twist from that morning, and then seeing Harry again so soon after hadn’t helped. He was so fucking keyed up that he’d probably back away from just about any of them, to be honest – his mum and Rox included. 

“Apologies if I harmed you.” He said, mostly just to be polite. He wasn’t sorry about stopping her from touching him, not at all, but he also wasn’t a complete idiot and could realize that he’d just put himself on thin ice with a superior. He relaxed a little when the woman gave him a sort of understanding look, and waved his apology away with a careless hand. 

“No such thing,” She said. “I have had worse holds from _la mia bisnonna_ , you are gentle. I was in error, yes?” He nodded his head slightly, unwilling to pretend like he thought otherwise. Harry rather looked like he’d been clocked over the head with something, so Eggsy figured that this woman didn’t apologize often. The awkward situation was broken when his mum trotted into the room with Daisy in her arms, coming to an abrupt halt when she spotted the stranger in their midst. 

“Oh…” Michelle said faintly, looking at Harry uncertainly. “Am I interruptin’ somethin’?” Harry smiled at her, but Eggsy noticed it still looked a bit strained. 

“Of course not, do come in.” Michelle shuffled her way over to Eggsy, who reached out automatically to accept Daisy into his arms. His mum’s eyes searched his, obviously sensing the strain in the room, but he only smiled at her in reassurance.

“Be back to take her off your hands in a bit, yeah?” She asked, and he nodded in acceptance, already planning to make his excuses and leg it out to the garden at the first opportunity. His mum seemed reluctant to go, but went along anyways when he subtly nudged her to it. Daisy was happy that afternoon, reaching up to squeeze at his cheeks and giggling when he pretended to bite at her fingers. Eggsy looked back up, only to find the other three occupants of the room watching him. Roxy was rolling her eyes good-naturedly at the sappy display, while Harry looked unbearably fond. The woman’s face split into a wide and gleeful grin, before she laughed in apparent delight.

“Ah! _Lei è così bella_! Is this little one yours?” She asked, leaning down slightly to smile at Daisy.

“Yeah.” He answered distractedly, a bit thrown by the sudden change in the woman’s personality. She started to reach out again, but this time stopped herself and threw him a rueful smile. 

“May I?” 

“Er… sure.” He replied, not entirely sure what it was that she was asking permission to do. He relaxed slightly when all she did was run gentle fingers over Daisy’s hair, making the curls spring up when she ruffled them a little bit. 

“So _bella_ , your daughter!” She exclaimed, and Eggsy blinked at her.

“Oh, er…” 

“Apologies again, for my behaviour earlier.”

“Um, that’s…” 

“We should be joining up with the others again, yes?” She asked, turning toward Harry, who quickly smoothed the surprise off this face. _At least I’m not the only one that’s really fuckin’ confused._

“Quite.” Harry replied, spreading out an arm towards the door in invitation. 

“Then, good afternoon, Excalibur and Lancelot.” The woman said with a smile to them both, before flouncing out of the gym without another word. _What the fuck?_ Harry only shook his head before leaving as well, and Eggsy turned to Roxy. 

“What?” He echoed his previous thought out loud. 

“You don’t know who that was?” Roxy asked in surprise, and Eggsy rolled his eyes while giving Daisy a little sway on his hip. 

“No, Rox. I don’. Do tell.” He said, dropping the posh accent he’d been maintaining for what came natural instead. 

“Harry introduced her as ‘Cosimo’, the head of the Italian branch, right?” He nodded, since he’d at least caught that much while noticing the bird had been eyeing him like meat. “Then she must be the former Agent Leonardo – our records on the Italians marked down her former codename when she took over the head position, and the records of her time previous to gaining the top spot are quite extensive.” Eggsy raised a brow at her.

“You researched the other heads, didn’ ya.” He said, a statement of fact and not a question. _Rox always has to be top of the class, eh_. She laughed lightly and shrugged her shoulders.

“When I heard that they would be coming for Harry’s coronation, I thought it’d be a wise plan to know who was who.”

“Of course you did.”

“ _Regardless_ ,” She said, talking over him. “she’s well known for being absolutely brutal in the field, and efficient as all get-out. Bit of a man-eater too, from the notes on former honeypot missions.” The image very much fit with the woman’s behaviour when they’d all first come into the room.

“So why the sudden change? I’d’ve figured she go fer me throat for grabbin’ her and talkin’ back, then.” Roxy shrugged, but her face grew a little uncertain.

“There was a brief mention in the files about an… _incident_. A mission gone wrong. I won’t go into detail, but I expect your admonishment about not touching someone without consent may have struck home.” Eggsy thought back to the look upon the woman’s face – the softness and _understanding_ – and thought that maybe Roxy was right. 

“Why want to touch anyone at all, then?” He asked distractedly, thinking of his own aversion and the reasons for it. Roxy shrugged again.

“Everyone reacts to trauma in their own way, I think.” She answered, as he pressed a kiss to Daisy’s curls and made a hum of agreement. 

“Guess she weren’t so bad, after all.”


	7. Chapter 7

“Would you care to tell me what in the hell all that was about?” Harry gritted out in an undertone. They were still a few paces behind the rest of the group, but it was not a conversation he wanted overheard. At his right side, Sofia sighed with that distinctive tone that said she thought he was being unreasonable. 

“The boy is lovely, surely you can see such?” She said with a wistful air, while Harry resisted the urge to grit his teeth. 

“His loveliness is not under debate.” He realized the folly of his words seconds after they passed his lips; Sofia’s head snapped around to observe him, a sharklike grin appearing on her blood red lips. 

“So you do admit that he _is_ lovely.” She said triumphantly.

“Stop avoiding my question, if you please.” 

“Oh, _caro_. One of these days, I will figure out how to make you go loose.” Harry felt his eyebrows raise at the statement.

“I beg your pardon?” Sofia waved a hand carelessly, pulling a face that said she knew her words had not translated into English the way she had wanted them to.

“You British – you are all so stiff, so _stuffy_. You need to… _rilassarsi_ , to calm from time to time, yes?” Harry rolled his eyes, not deigning to respond to the statement. “But the boy _is_ lovely… Such a shame.”

“You’re old enough to be his mother.” A grin pulled at Sofia’s mouth, and Harry honestly didn’t know where he’d gone wrong in the conversation.

“And _you_ are old enough to be his father. But what does a little thing like _age_ matter when it comes to love between adults?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re implying.” Suddenly, Harry wanted out of the conversation with all haste; he was thwarted, however, by Sofia grabbing his arm and pulling him to a stop in the middle of the corridor. A teasing grin was still upon her face, and Harry almost wished for her usual taciturn nature to return – it was more familiar, easier to handle. 

“ _Caro_.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Is this why you denied me all those years ago?” She asked musingly, her eyes searching his face. “You prefer men? Why would you not just _say_ such a thing – I would not have been so angry.”

“Need I remind you that my… _tastes_ … were still very _illegal_ in Britain at the time?” He hissed out quietly, resisting the urge to flush. “That factor aside, I do not believe that it is a requirement to provide a _reason_ for turning someone down, merely the saying of ‘no’ should be sufficient.” Sofia’s face fell into seriousness, and she seemed to quietly contemplate his words for a moment. 

“You are right, _certamente_.” She said quietly. “You and your young man have shown me many bad habits I seem to have taken on, today. This I will correct.” 

“He’s not _my_ young man.” He replied, if a bit petulantly. Sofia quirked a brow at him, nonetheless.

“He is special to you, this you cannot deny. Do you think I did not notice you moving to stop me from touching him, before he did so himself?” Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably, before turning to continue down the corridor, Sofia falling into step beside him once more. 

“Excalibur is not fond of being touched, most especially by those he is unfamiliar with. I worried that he would tolerate it and make himself uncomfortable under the assumption that I would expect it of him, given that you are a branch head and therefore a superior to him.” 

“That may be true, _caro_ , but I think you did so more out of protectiveness for the boy.” He glanced at her from the side of his eye, but her face was giving nothing away for once. “Wanting to keep other hands off of what is yours?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” 

“But what is so ridiculous?” She sounded honestly confused, and Harry sighed.

“I don’t _own_ him, Sofia, and given the kind of background he comes from, that is an entirely abhorrent notion.” Her face creased in understanding, becoming oddly gentle once again. They reached the doors of Arthur’s sitting rooms – where the others had already entered – and she pulled him to a halt before he could open the door. 

Harry held himself still when she gripped him by both elbows, her eyes searching his face; he didn’t know what she was looking for, but after a moment it seemed as though perhaps she had found it. A sad smile crossed her face, as she squeezed him slightly.

“He may not belong to you, _caro_ … But I think that you belong to _him_ , yes?” Harry swallowed roughly, unwilling to give her an answer – no matter how _right_ she was. He remained silent, and she eventually let him go. The sad smile didn’t leave her expression, even as she reached out to grip the door handle beside them. 

“That is what I thought.” She said, before disappearing into the room and leaving Harry in an empty corridor with only his thoughts. 

_Yes. Yes, I belong to him – God help me._

* * *

“What’s all this about, then?” Eggsy asked as he dropped unceremoniously into his chair at the ‘round’ table, while Merlin rolled his eyes and Roxy snickered. 

“When Arthur gets here, Excalibur, we will begin answering that question.” He drawled out, just as Harry stepped through the meeting room doors.

“Arthur. Late, _as usual_.” Merlin growled out the last bit, as Harry sent him a smirk and elegantly drifted down into his seat, unlike Eggsy’s ungainly sprawl. He self-consciously straightened himself up, brushing some wrinkles out of his light-grey suit that was an almost identical match for the one Harry currently wore. _We’re gonna have to plan shit out or summat to avoid this_ , he thought ruefully. 

His suits and bulletproof casual clothes had been finished up in record time, all having been delivered to his room in HQ nearly two weeks to the day after the other branch heads had been in for their visit. Eggsy couldn’t lie, he still preferred the trackies and whatnot over the stuffy suits any day – the first time Daisy had seen him in a suit and his Kingsman glasses, she hadn’t even recognized him. _That was awful._

“Lancelot, Excalibur.” Harry greeted, and Eggsy couldn’t keep himself from smiling at him. The smile quickly died, however, when he noticed how gravely serious the older gent was. “We’ve called you in today for a mission that we will be asking you _both_ to work on.” That was a bit out of the norm – Kingsman agents very rarely needed to work joint on something, unless it was _big_. “Merlin, perhaps a bit of background for this case, seeing as it pre-dates both of them in the organization.” Merlin nodded his head solemnly, gesturing at the screen upon the wall. 

“Thirteen, almost fourteen years ago now, there were a rash of disappearances – there was only _one_ similarity between the victims, which is partially what made it so hard for any police inquiries into the disappearances. The victims were taken from all across Britain, Wales, Scotland, and Ireland; they were of different genders, social classes, and lived in neighbourhoods of varying wealth. The only connecting factor between the victims was that they were all children between the ages of eight and twelve years old.” Eggsy frowned up at the screen, a sick feeling twisting in his gut. Merlin brought up photos of all the children that had gone missing, most of which looked to be taken from school databases, and he felt a sharp jolt.

“Diana…” He breathed out in surprise, completely unintentional, but it was loud enough for the other three to all turn to him.

“Excalibur?” Harry asked, and Eggsy gave his head a bit of a shake.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just… That girl there, third row down and in the middle. I went to school with her… I remember when she went missin’ – her parents were absolutely fuckin’ _mad_ with it. Don’ think they ever got over it, the not knowin’… Coppers said they had nothin’ to go on, but we all knew they don’ look to hard when it came to us from the Estate. They usually just figure we’s gone runnin’ away or summat.” Harry’s face twisted into an outraged frown, but Eggsy just shrugged his shoulders. “Just the way it is, guv.” Merlin cleared his throat, and continued on.

“Yes, well. These disappearances would normally not have fallen under Kingsman’s pervue, but one of the victims,” Here Merlin highlighted a particular picture of a smiling boy in a poncy school uniform, “was the youngest son of a very important figure in the House of Lords. As a favour, the investigation was brought to us – unfortunately, it was never completely solved. We were able to establish that all of these children had – without a doubt – been taken by the same individual, and Agent Galahad had at the time been extremely close to discovering that individual’s identity.” Eggsy looked at Harry in surprise, seeing that the man’s eyes were fixed upon the screen of missing children, the expression on his face murderous. 

“The case was yours, Harry?” He asked, and Harry nodded slowly without once removing his gaze from the screen. 

“One of my few failures, I admit.” He said, frustration lacing his tone. “I was so _fucking_ close – and then the bastard up and vanished. The disappeances in our _glorious_ United Kingdom stopped, and I was ordered by Chester onto new missions; we never solved it.” He turned his eyes to Eggsy, looking unbearably sad. “I am sorry about your friend, Eggsy.” He shook his head, not wanting Harry to feel guilty.

“Didn’ know her that well, if I’m bein’ honest. Just remember seein’ her around school – we all figured the same thing as the Coppers, yeah? That she’d run away. There were a lot o’ us who wanted to run away from the Estate.” He couldn’t help the darkening of his tone, his mind skipping back to the hellish childhood he’d endured; if it hadn’t been for his worry about his mum, he’d have ran as fast and as far from Dean as he could, and fuck the consequences. Shaking off the thoughts, he forced himself to get back to business. “Since you keep sayin’ _disappearances_ and not _murders_ , I’m gonna assume you never found any bodies for the kids.” Merlin and Harry both shook their heads.

“Nae,” Merlin grumbled, while tapping at his clipboard. Soon an image of a scowling man replaced those of the the kids on the screen. _What an ugly fucker_. “We’ve received information that this man – Jonathan Riggs – has recently come back to Britain. During our initial investigation, we were able to tie him to the disappearances; we think as an underling to real culprit. His reappearance after over a decade of absence means that this case is to be considered active once again – our fear is what his presence may mean.” 

_Oi, kid! C’mere would ya?_

Eggsy startled a bit in his seat, the gritty voice rising in his mind from a distant memory – a hunched figure cloaked in shadows on the street corner, beckoning. _No… no it can’t be._

* * *

“Herein comes your part, agents.” Harry said, looking away from the image of the repulsive man on the screen to glance at Roxy, and then Eggsy. The boy was exceedingly pale, hands gripped around the chair arms as if holding on for dear life. Harry felt remorse for putting him in this situation – a mission always had so much more impact upon one when there was some kind of personal tie, despite the fact that Eggsy claimed not to have known the little girl very well. Regardless, they were going to need two agents on this case, and they just did not have enough available for Harry to replace him. 

“Our intelligence services have managed to ascertain that Riggs will be at a certain club in Peckham this evening. We need any and all data off of his mobile phone, so that we might analyze it and hopefully come up with something useful to lead us to his _employer_.” Merlin nodded his agreement, and took over the conversation.

“The plan is this: Riggs is well known for having a weakness for _pretty faces_ – if you’ll excuse the term – which we intend to exploit using Lancelot. Roxy will get close to the mark and slip this device,” he placed a tiny black box no bigger than a flash drive onto the table, “up next to the mark’s mobile. It dinna have to be plugged in, just pressed up against it. Now, the tricky part comes – you will have to leave the device pressed to the mobile for at least sixty seconds, in order to download the data properly to our systems.” Roxy nodded her head serenely, while Eggsy seemed to have found his voice.

“You’re askin’ her to fuckin’ _what_?!” Harry blinked a bit at the outburst, and was gratified to see that Merlin seemed just as surprised. 

“Problem, Excalibur?” Merlin asked, a warning buried in his tone. 

“Yeah, I got a fuckin’ problem! Beginnin’ with the fact that you wanna send someone like _Rox_ to fuckin’ _Peckham_ of all places, and endin’ with you wantin’ her to cozy up to that arsehole!” Roxy sighed, almost as if she were trying to find some patience.

“Eggsy, I signed off on missions like this. It isn’t an issue for me.” The younger man pulled a face that Harry couldn’t quite discern, but he thought it looked very much like when Eggsy was narrowly holding back from shooting something. 

“I _know_ that, _Roxanne_.” He said a little peevishly, which surprised Harry greatly. “Alright, fine. Tell me how you’s gonna do it then.” Eggsy leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms and raising his brows expectantly. Roxy blinked at him, but her face was nothing but professional calm.

“It seems rather simple, really.” She said. “Flirt with him, get his attention. When he’s sufficiently distracted, retrieve the data, then get out.” She shrugged her shoulders, but Eggsy’s frown only became more pronounced.

“You do that, you’re dead.” He said bluntly.

“Beg pardon?” She returned, and Harry rather felt like he was at a tennis match all of a sudden. 

“Listen to me,” Eggsy leaned forward earnestly in his chair, hands gripping the edge of the table until his knuckles went white. “when it come to people like this, Rox, there’s such a thing as _too pretty_ , ya get me?” She frowned, and shook her head ‘no’. Eggsy sighed, bringing a hand up to tangle in his hair, and Harry had to resist the urge to lean over and fix the mess he made. “A bird like you starts hittin’ on him outta nowhere, he’s gonna know somethin’s up. Look at him – he’s a right ugly fuckin’ piece of work, ain’t no girl as pretty as you gonna flirt with _him_ without there bein’ some other reason for it.”

“Alright, so what are you suggesting I do?” She asked in exasperation. 

“You _use_ that. He’ll know you want somethin’, yeah? So what you do is tell him exactly what you want – you flirt with him, fine, but then you name your price.” He said grimly, and Harry could see where this was going. “We make sure to tart ya up and all – ‘cos, to be honest Rox, your posh little dresses will only make you stick out _more_ in Peckham – and you tell him you want a hundred quid fer an hour.” Roxy’s eyebrows hit her hairline.

“You want me to approach him as a _hooker_?!” 

“No, I’m tellin’ ya you _have_ to, if you wanna make it out of there fuckin’ _alive_. He’s gonna see right through anythin’ else.” To her credit, she seemed to be actually considering Eggsy’s words. Harry had to admit, he could see the wisdom in what the boy was saying as well – they’d been foolish to overlook such a thing. 

“A hundred quid for an hour?” She asked a little weakly, obviously having caved to the advice. Eggsy nodded his head firmly.

“You tell him that it’s non-negotiable, ya get me? And if he wants anythin’ rough, then it’ll be _three_ hundred.”

“Dare I ask…”

“We’s had this conversation already, Rox.” At the mixed look of rage and shame upon the boy’s face, Harry felt his heart positively _ache_ within his chest.

“Jesus, Eggsy…” Roxy breathed out, while shaking her head. “Alright, yes. Thank you for the… input.” Harry took a bracing breath, determined to get them back on track.

“Hopefully you can accomplish your goal without having to resort to any actual… _physical_ … involvement. If you can somehow get the device against his mobile whilst distracting him with _negotiations_ , then perhaps we can avoid the whole issue.” 

“This place, Rox… Peckham’s pretty rough, love. I know you’s good at what you do, but it’s got me a bit worried, yeah?” The puppy eyes that the boy was throwing her across the table were _devastating_ ; Harry didn’t know how Roxy was resisting them. 

“We agree, Excalibur.” Merlin spoke up, gaining both of the young ones’ attention once again. “That’s why we’re sending you along to the club with her – to watch at a distance and provide back-up, if necessary. _How_ you retrieve the data will be left up to you both; you may find it easier for Eggsy to attempt the actual data retrieval while Roxy focuses purely on distraction – you can both assess the situation and come to a decision in the moment, as there will be too many factors beyond our control.” Eggsy nodded, seeming satisfied that he would be on hand to keep a watchful eye on his friend. 

“There is another matter in which we’ll need your expertise, Excalibur.” Harry said, a small smile pulling at his mouth. 

“What’s that?” The boy asked, looking slightly confused.

“We will indeed have to – as you said – ‘tart up’ Lancelot for the venue. I trust your judgment on appropriate clothing for the both of you, as clearly the locale is not _our_ usual.” The filthy look that Roxy threw him over the ‘tart’ comment was entirely worth hearing the surprised laugh that barked out of Eggsy. 

“Fuckin’ _aces_ , Harry!” 

“I’m going to absolutely _despise_ whatever he picks, aren’t I.” It was very much a statement, not a question, that Roxy spoke in a resigned tone. 

“More than likely.” Harry replied, unable to keep the smirk from his face. “Be ready to head over to the club by 21:00 tonight. Retrieve this data, and hopefully it will be enough to lead us to the next step for the both of you.” With shared nods, the two younger agents rose from the table to head out. It did not escape Harry’s notice that Eggsy paused at the doorway, glancing back at the image of Jonathan Riggs upon the screen.

The look upon his face was serious and unreadable, and he had subconsciously pressed a hand low on his abdomen. Harry had the errant thought that it was perhaps the same spot in which he’d glimpsed a mark that day in the gym, but Eggsy had spun and exited the room before he could open his mouth to ask.

_It’s nothing, I’m sure._


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger Warning:** Please see notes at the end of the story in regards to this chapter, if concerned about triggering content.

_I don’ care how fuckin’ late it is, Michelle! Muggsy’s gonna go drop Danny’s stuff off fer me, and you’re gonna shut yer fuckin’ mouth!_

Eggsy’s fingers began twitching in his sleep.

_It’s dark. It’s scary. I don’ wanna be here. Keep walkin’. Keep walkin’._

His eyelids flickered, and his muscles began to tense.

_What a nice lil’ errand boy you is, eh Muggsy? You go and tell Dean I got my goods all proper-like. Watch yer step on the way home, boy – wouldn’ take no trouble to snap a pretty lil’ thing like you up in the dark!_

His breathing started to stutter, sharp little gasps for air ringing out loud in his empty room.

_Oi, kid! C’mere, would ya?_

Eggsy’s head twisted sharply on his pillow, and sweat began to bead up on his skin.

_Who is that? I can’ see him properly. It’s dark, it’s dark. I don’ like it. Run!_

His hands clenched into fists, pulling at the sheets around him.

_You little fucking shit!_

Small whimpers began to sound from his throat, high and terrified.

_He’s got me! He’s grabbin’ me too hard, my face hurts! Can’ scream, can’ breathe. What is that? A cloth? It smells strange. It’s… dark. It’s dark. I don’ like it._

His body suddenly jerked hard, elbow bumping the night table. 

_Oh, he’s gonna enjoy breakin’ you, boy. Just you wait._

A water glass jostled to the edge, tipping over it. 

_I don’ like it. I don’ like it. I don’ like it._

The glass shattered against the hardwood flooring, jerking Eggsy from his restless sleep with a gasp. 

“Fuck…”

* * *

“No, Harry.” Merlin didn’t even do him the honour of turning away from his screens to acknowledge him.

“Yes, Merlin.” He responded, dragging over a chair so that he could rest comfortably and still have a good view of both agents’ camera feeds. The dour Scotsman finally turned to look at Harry, and the silent battle of wills commenced. Merlin finally sighed, and Harry smirked in victory. “It’s his first time out in the field since V-Day; I’d feel much better if I could watch for myself to make sure all goes according to plan.” The Quartermaster’s snort of disbelief was _extremely_ uncalled for, in his opinion.

“I’m beginning to think we should have called the boy ‘Guinevere’, rather than ‘Excalibur’.” He muttered, and Harry rolled his eyes.

“Don’t think that I haven’t already heard some of the other knights refer to him as such. It’s entirely unprofessional.”

“You’re just upset that you dinna think of it first.” Merlin smirked, while raising his mug to take a sip of fragrant coffee. Harry couldn’t help but huff out a small laugh, shaking his head.

“No. No, the boy is all grit and _steel_ , despite his big heart; loyal to Kingsman to the end. ‘Excalibur’ certainly suits him much more.” He didn’t even attempt to keep the pride and fondness from shining through his tone. 

“You’re an idiot, Harry Hart.” He turned his head to look at Merlin, blinking a bit in confusion. 

“Beg pardon?” 

“It’s not _Kingsman_ the boy is loyal to, it’s _you_. The fact that you’re Arthur, that you _are_ Kingsman, is why he works to serve us. You may have watched some of the recordings from V-Day, Harry, but I was _there_. He was dressed like _you_ , he acted like _you_ , and when Richmond Valentine was choking on his own blood and vomit he outright told him that he was _avenging you_. I’d normally take issue with it, but I know you’d never betray Kingsman in your life – _your_ loyalty ensures _his_. Ergo, no problem.” Harry rather felt as though his mind was spinning.

“No… you’re mistaken.” He said, albeit a bit weakly. “While he thought I was dead, Eggsy was still here. Still loyal to Kingsman.” 

“Because he thought that’s what _you_ would’ve wanted. He’s fond of Roxy and I, of course – even thinks of us as family. But he could’ve stepped away from Kingsman and still had that relationship with us; it was his fear of disappointing _you_ , even after death, that kept him here and wanting to be involved. The only reason I didna swear him in or send him out on missions was because I didna think he was mentally _there_ enough to handle it, at the time.” Harry was saved from having to properly contemplate Merlin’s words by the screens in front of them showing that the agents had arrived at the club – Roxy showing enough skin that she was let in the front without having to bother with the queue, whereas Eggsy had just finished picking the lock on the back door and slipping into the crowd stealthily.

“A good decision,” Harry murmured. “not arriving together.” Merlin chuckled lowly.

“If ever you were right about something, Harry, it was the fact that the boy was born to do this.” Setting his coffee mug back down, he leaned over to press the microphone on. “Good work, agents. Riggs is already in the building – both of you try and give us a good sweep of the room.” The feed from Eggsy’s glasses took up the lefthand screen, whereas the tiny camera concealed as a gemstone in Roxy’s choker necklace played out on the right. “Lancelot, is your earpiece reading me alright?” The view was briefly cut off as she raised a hand, obviously concealing her mouth somehow to answer.

“Yes, Merlin. Loud and clear.”

“Good. Excalibur, turn back to the far end of the bar.” The view on Eggsy’s screen shifted, and Harry spotted Riggs at the same moment that Eggsy murmured.

“Got him.”

“Well done, Excalibur. The place looks fairly crowded, this could either help or hinder you both greatly, at this point. Stay sharp.” Roxy’s screen shifted, and Eggsy appeared like a vision – he wasn’t wearing one of his suits (of course not), but neither was he dressed in anything like the loud trackies that he’d worn for the train test. Rather, he had on tight black denims and a long-sleeved black tee; the dark colours contrasted beautifully against his pale skin, and his hair was a tousled mess that made one think of bedrooms more than a need for a comb. He looked ravishing, in Harry’s opinion, but also _dangerous_. 

It was an odd sensation – Harry was well aware of the skills that Eggsy had, skills that could even rival Harry’s own. He was equally aware of the fact that in _one day_ Eggsy had racked up a kill-count that numbered in the hundreds; but never had Harry seen the boy look so _intent_ , so utterly ready to take on any fight the universe wanted to throw at him. Something about the dark colours, coupled with his dim surroundings and the serious look upon his handsome face, made Harry inexplicably think of a Grim Reaper just waiting to collect his souls.

Though Eggsy had been picking his way through the crowd toward the bar, Harry noticed a momentary hitch in his step – _Did he see something?_ – but a glance at the feed from Eggsy’s viewpoint did not serve to enlighten them. Harry looked back toward Roxy’s screen, unease beginning to settle in his gut, but she had obviously looked away from him and was instead focused on the bar and Riggs.

“Lancelot.” Eggsy whispered in an undertone, suddenly. “I need you to come over and make it look like you’re chattin’ me up.” 

“Copy. On my way.” Harry mentally applauded the fact that Roxy didn’t question it; clearly she had also picked up on the fact that Eggsy had noticed something the rest of them had not. The unease in Harry’s gut was growing heavier with every passing second, and he found himself tempted to call the whole thing off. Roxy stumbled into Eggsy, pressed tightly up against him in the perfect image of persistent flirtation. “What’s going on?” She asked, her face on Eggsy’s screen smiling up at him temptingly. 

“No time.” He muttered, while grabbing her by the shoulders and setting her away from him – the very picture of a man uninterested in what she had to offer. He turned his back on her and began pushing his way through the crowd toward the rear of the club as she flipped his retreating figure the V’s, playing her part of rejection well. 

“Lancelot, report.” Merlin barked, obviously as confused to what Eggsy was up to as Harry was.

“Excalibur has control of the device.” She whispered, retreating to the bar to make a show of ordering a drink. Harry blinked. _Did Eggsy just pick-pocket is own partner?_ “Shall I distract the target while you copy the information?” She asked, turning toward the end of the bar that Riggs had been sequestered at, only for the camera to show him gone.

“Negative.” Eggsy answered, and his tone was as cold as solid ice. Harry had never heard him sound so detached, so _deadly_. “I want you to leave the bar and head back to HQ.”

“ _What_.” 

“There’s nothin’ else you can do here. Leave, and no matter _what_ you hear through my feed, don’ come back.”

“Give me a reason.” She demanded, and Harry’s hands gripped the arms of his chair tightly, until his knuckles turned white. _Eggsy, what are you doing?_ The young man broke from the crowd, pushing into the men’s room and doing a quick sweep, finding it empty.

“…‘Cos the target is about to come in here and attack me.” Harry’s heart thumped hard in his chest, a cold sweat breaking over him. “And I’m gonna _let_ him.”

“ _What_?!” Harry barked out, unable to contain himself, but the others seemed to ignore his outburst. 

“Then I should be providing you back-up.” Roxy argued, voice pressed tight with obvious worry.

“No. Do ya trust me, Lancelot?”

“With my life.” 

“What about with _mine_?” Eggsy was staring into a mirror, the reflection of his face showing him resolute and seemingly unafraid. Roxy sighed.

“Arthur?” Her voice embued the single word with her disbelief of the situation, and here he was presented with a choice – he could act upon his personal feelings, ordering her to stay so as to ensure Eggsy’s protection… or, as Arthur, he could trust in his agent’s judgment and order her to leave, as Eggsy had asked. 

“Come back to HQ, Lancelot.” He felt close to vomiting even as he said the words, hoping with everything he had left that he was making the right choice. 

“…Understood. Sir.” The words were clipped with barely-restrained fury, but she began making her way out of the club nonetheless. _Oh, there will be hell to pay for this._ On Eggsy’s screen, he removed his glasses and propped them on top of a dispensing box for paper towels, angling them so that the floor-to-ceiling mirrors on the far wall reflected the entirety of the room back to the camera. 

“What the bloody hell is he _doing_?” Merlin murmured, but for once Harry knew _exactly_ what Eggsy was thinking.

“He’s making sure that we can see everything that’s about to happen, rather than just his own rather narrow viewpoint.” The thought was not as reassuring as Eggsy had probably meant it to be.

“But now he willna be able to hear us to communicate.” 

“I highly doubt that he wants our input, at the moment.” Eggsy was stood at the dingy sink, making a show of washing his hands while stealthily watching the door at his back open in the reflection of the small mirror in front of him. Riggs slipped his way into the room, and obviously did his own quick sweep to check for others in the few stalls. Finding it empty, a nasty smile crossed his face as he twisted the door’s lock closed, his beady eyes fixed on Eggsy’s arse. Suddenly realizing just what _kind_ of ‘attack’ Eggsy had meant, Harry jerked forward in his chair in panic. 

“Easy, Harry.” Merlin murmured, looking more grim than Harry had seen him in quite some time. At the sound of the deadbolt snapping closed, Eggsy jerked his head up to regard Riggs more obviously in the mirror’s reflection.

“Well ain’t you a pretty lil’ thing…” The man drawled, and the muscle in the side of Eggsy’s jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth tight. 

“Ain’t interested, bruv.” He said slowly, warily, as he dried his hands off. “Try somebody else, yeah?” Riggs gave him a truly demonic grin, as he stepped up behind the boy and leaned close to one ear.

“I ain’t interested in whether or not _you’re_ interested, sweetheart.” Riggs’ right hand snapped out, dirty fingers tangling in Eggsy’s hair and forcing the boy forward over the sink. Eggsy got an arm up just in time to prevent his face from crashing into the mirror, throwing his other elbow backwards into Riggs’ belly, but Harry noticed that it had nowhere near the power behind the blow as it should have. Evidently seeing his frown, Merlin spoke up.

“He said he was going to _let_ him attack, remember.” On the screen, Riggs used his hold on Eggsy’s hair to jerk the boy back upright, dragging him back against his larger form and raising his other hand to put it in a choking grip around Eggsy’s throat.

“Ah, ah. None o’ that now, pretty. You’s gonna be a good girl fer me?” Eggsy’s face twisted in disgust, and Harry felt his skin crawl. Riggs obviously tightened his grip, as Eggsy’s face began to flush red and his hands came up to claw weakly at the one around his throat. 

“Wait.” Merlin said suddenly. “Look, there. He’s turned the dial on his watch while he had both hands together.” Though it was further proof that Eggsy was doing this for a reason, that he had a _plan_ , Harry found himself still unable to relax. The boy let out a choking cough, and Riggs seemed to ease off his hold a bit.

“Alright, yeah, fine.” Eggsy gritted out from his damaged throat, but Riggs only laughed.

“Naw, c’mon now, pretty. Say the whole thing fer me.” 

“I’ll be good!” Eggsy gasped.

“All o’ it!”

“I’ll be a good girl!” Riggs smiled triumphantly on the screen, obviously pleased with forcing the boy to say such a thing, whilst Harry began plotting the long and torturous murder he was going to make the filth suffer one day. _One day soon_. Riggs jerked Eggsy’s head back against his shoulder, while his other hand left the boy’s throat to tear at the button on his denims. Eggsy’s hands raised up, his arms looping backwards around Riggs’ neck in a sick parody of a lover’s embrace, as Riggs managed to tear the button clean off the boy’s trousers. Harry feared how much further Eggsy was going to allow this to go, when suddenly Riggs was dropping like a sack of potatoes to the grimy floor. 

“Fuck me.” Merlin laughed out in disbelief, as Harry blinked at the screen.

“What? What’s happened? It all went quiet.” Roxy demanded, still in a cab and making her way back.

“Excalibur got the prick right in the back of his neck with an amnesia dart.” Harry let out a tense breath, relieved. On the screen, Eggsy was rummaging through Riggs’ pockets, finally pulling out his mobile and placing it on the edge of the sink with the copying device sat on top of it to begin it’s work. Merlin began typing away, checking the connection and whatever else it was that he needed to check. Harry continued to watch as the boy grabbed Riggs under his armpits, dragging him over to one of the stalls. _Now what is he doing?_

While the device continued to do its work, Merlin and Harry watched as Eggsy began artfully arranging Riggs’ unconscious form over the toilet, giving it the appearance of one who had gotten too deep in their cups and merely passed out from drunkenness. Merlin clapped Harry on the shoulder, squeezing tightly.

“Your boy is a fucking _genius_ , Harry!” He praised, which was so rare that he wished Eggsy had his glasses on to hear it. “The amnesia dart will take care of the memories, so when the target wakes up leaning over the loo of the club, there’s no reason he won’t think that all he did was get blisteringly drunk.” They could hear an equally relieved laugh come from Lancelot’s feed.

“Thank god.” She breathed, and Harry rather echoed the sentiment. 

“Copy is complete. Now all he needs to do is grab the device, replace the mobile, and get the hell out of there.” On the screen, Eggsy began doing just that. He shoved the device into the front pocket of his denims, making a face when the missing button caused them to sag lower on his hips, and grabbed the mobile to bring over to Riggs. They watched as he placed it back into the exact same pocket as he’d found it, then turned to close and lock the stall door with them both still inside. “What…?” Merlin began, but Harry cut him off.

“Watch.” Within a moment, Eggsy was vaulting over the wall of the stall, landing in the open one next to it with the spent amnesia dart in his hand, leaving Riggs’ unconscious form mostly out of view and giving the impression to any who might look that he had locked himself in there for privacy whilst being sick. 

“ _Genius_.” Merlin said again, and Harry found himself relaxing enough to smile.

* * *

His hands were still. His heart wasn’t even thumping all that hard. His breathing was as calm as could fucking be, and his face was blank. 

But deep inside… Inside he just felt cold. _Numb_. 

Eggsy reached a hand up, gently pulling the chain that held Harry’s medal until it was outside his shirt, a lone splash of colour up against the black of his clothing. He stared at it, wanting to feel something to counteract the numbness that terrified him. 

_I see a young man with potential._

_Bloody well done._

_I care about you, Eggsy._

_My dear._

The bullet train slowed to a stop, and Eggsy took a deep breath, a decision made. As the doors slid open, he found all three of them waiting for him, Roxy looking freshly showered and in some comfortable trackies of her own. Harry opened his mouth, but before he could speak Eggsy walked past them all silently, heading down the corridor towards Medical. 

“Eggsy?” It was Merlin’s voice, surpised and questioning. He didn’t respond. He could hear the footsteps of all three follow him, silent until they reached his destination.

“Eggsy?” Harry asked this time, voice concerned. “Why are we at Medical? Is your throat more damaged than we thought?” One of the doctors looked up as they entered the room, gaze running over them all and finding only an absence of injuries. 

“Out.” Eggsy said, no inflection in his voice. It felt as though the numbness was creeping throughout him. The doctor blinked in shock, looking over to Harry.

“…If you please.” Harry waved toward the door, and the doctor dipped their head before leaving the room. Eggsy walked toward one of the supply cabinets, yanking off his shirt as he went and dropping it unceremoniously on the floor. It took little rummaging before he came up with his prize – one of the electric hair clippers they used when a head injury had to be shaved for stitches. 

He re-lived the sensation of Riggs yanking on his hair, his dirty fingers pulling and controlling him. He turned the clippers on.

Eggsy shaved his head in silence, bringing his hair back down to the shortness it had been when he’d first met Harry again. Not bald, but not long – not enough to grip. A lesson from Dean that he’d somehow set aside, when wanting to copy Harry. A lesson he should have kept close.

Every bit of hair that fell to the floor felt like freedom, and somehow the numbness started to fade. By the time he was done, his hands and his stomach both felt like they were shaking… but he _felt_. Shutting the clippers off, he turned to the others; Roxy looked like she very much wanted to cry, Merlin was grim and quiet. But Harry… Harry looked _proud_.

“Mission accomplished, Arthur.” He said, voice firm. 

“As always, Excalibur, you prove my trust in your judgment well-founded.” Eggsy could feel his shoulders straightening at the praise, some tight knot in his chest loosening. “I offer an official apology, on behalf of Kingsman, as to the situation you found yourself in tonight. We take our agents’ preferences in regards to missions of a close or sexual nature seriously, and had we any notion at all that the target would go after yourself instead of Lancelot, we would not have put you in such a position.” Eggsy nodded his head, knowing all of that already.

“We done with the official part o’ things now?” The corner of Harry’s mouth dipped down sadly.

“Quite.” 

“Merlin, Rox. You wanna give us a mo’ here?” The other two silently slipped out of the room, closing the door behind them, but Eggsy’s eyes never left Harry’s face. He shuffled closer to Harry, reaching out slowly for the older man’s hands. “Can I…?” He started, but had no idea how to ask for what he wanted. Turned out he didn’t have to. 

“ _Anything_ you need, my dear.” Harry said gently, and Eggsy blew out a harsh breath. Taking Harry’s hands in his own uselessly trembling ones, he placed one against his right cheek and the other to the crown of his head. He let go when Harry curled his fingers, cupping him by the jaw delicately while the other hand rubbed softly over his newly-shorn hair. He closed his eyes, head cradled in Harry’s big hands.

And he felt _safe_.


	9. Chapter 9

The tiredness overcame him suddenly. Leaning forward slowly – _softly, softly now_ – he let his forehead press into Harry’s collarbone, his hands coming up to grip lightly at the bottom edges of the older man’s suit jacket. Harry’s one hand remained on the back of his head, gently holding him to his chest, while the hand on his cheek dropped to rest in between his bare shoulderblades. The grip was light – barely there, really – and Eggsy could break it easily if he wanted to.

For the first time since he was eleven years old, he found himself _not_ wanting to. He was safe with Harry. They stood that way in silence for god knows how long, before Harry’s voice emerged in a quiet murmur.

“I am so _unbelievably_ proud of you, Eggsy.” The words warmed him, down to his very soul. “That must have been so difficult for you.”

“It was fuckin’ _terrifyin’_ , if I’m bein’ honest, guv.” It was hardly a whisper; he’d grown up learning that to show fear was to show weakness, but if he could trust Harry’s hands on him, then he could maybe trust Harry with this too. The fingers on his back dug in just a little bit harder, only for a moment. 

“It takes incredible strength to keep a calm head and do our duty in the face of what terrifies us; you’ll find that even some senior Kingsmen struggle with such a thing.” Eggsy let out a little snort of disbelief, he couldn’t help it. “I’m serious. The Kay we had in the eighties once botched a recon mission because a snake came within ten feet of him – the scream he let out was so high pitched, it put some operatic singers to shame. It also, of course, alerted the targets to the fact that there was someone watching them.” Eggsy let out a little chuckle at the image that Harry had painted. Deciding that he’d leaned on the older gent long enough, he began easing back away from him. Harry let him go without protest, just further proving that he’d been right to allow it – _I’m always safe with Harry._

“Thanks, Harry.” He said quietly, earnestly looking up at the other man’s face and hoping that he hadn’t been a bother. Harry just had that soft and _fond_ look, the one that Eggsy was beginning to think he only ever had around Eggsy himself. 

“There is nothing to thank me for.” He replied with a small smile, before seeming to hesitate. Harry’s eyes flickered over Eggsy’s face, and he wondered what it was that Harry was looking for. Slowly, Harry raised his hands to waist height, turning them over so that his palms were up and open – an invitation. Eggsy hardly had to think on it at all before he placed his own hands in Harry’s, watching the tension that had crept into the man’s broad shoulders drain at his easy acceptance, his fingers tightening their grip just a little bit. “I _am_ proud of you, Eggsy. Please never forget that.” Eggsy swallowed hard, before tipping him a small smile.

“Thanks, Harry.” He squeezed Harry’s fingers a little bit tighter, before letting go. Once again, the older man didn’t protest, didn’t try to keep hold of him. 

_You’re a good man, Harry_. Eggsy just wished he had the courage to say so out loud. Picking up his forgotten shirt, he headed for the door and prepared himself for the lecture he was proably gonna get from Roxy for ordering her about at the club. Twisting the knob, he looked back over his shoulder one last time; it didn’t look as though Harry had moved at all – his back was still to the door, though his hands had dropped back down to his sides. His fingers were curled into his palms, but not tightly – not like he was making a fist. 

Deciding to let things lie for the moment, he slipped out of the room without another word.

* * *

There it was, almost a week later, and Harry was cursing himself out for acting like a besotted teenager. He could _still_ feel the pressure of Eggsy’s forehead against his chest, could still feel the warmth of his hands in Harry’s own. Harry well knew how _significant_ it was that Eggsy had allowed him such a liberty – that he had taken Harry’s hands and placed them on his _face_. But what had really left him reeling was that when _Harry_ had offered a touch for the first time – hands out, palms empty and waiting – the boy had hardly hesitated before accepting. 

From the first moment after gripping Eggsy’s shoulder in the Black Prince and realizing his aversion, Harry had made the silent promise that he would never attempt to touch the young man without _him_ instigating it first; and so he hadn’t. _Eggsy_ had been the one to first reach out and touch Harry’s face, pressing careful fingers to his scar. _Eggsy_ had taken Harry’s hands and placed them on his face and the back of his head, that night after the club – and it had been _Eggsy_ that had first leaned forward, pressing his forehead into Harry’s chest. It had been _Eggsy_ that had reached up to cling onto his jacket. So when the boy had backed away, and Harry had let him do so immediately – _I would **never** trap him in such a way_ – he’d been unsure whether Eggsy had hit his limit on touching, and would therefore be unreceptive to something instigated by Harry. 

He’d never been so pleased to be wrong. Eggsy had accepted his silent invitation, even had squeezed Harry’s fingers a bit tighter during their conversation. Harry curled his fingers into his palms where they sat on top of his desk, wanting to somehow preserve the memory of the dry warmth of Eggsy’s skin. His ruminations were brought to an abrupt halt when there was a soft knock at his office door. 

“Come in.” He picked his pen back up, blinking down at the paperwork in front of him and attempting to look like he hadn’t just had his head off in the clouds for god knows _how_ long. He was surprised when Michelle peeked her head around the door nervously.

“Sorry, Mister Hart… Am I interruptin’?” Harry sent her a smile, full of genuine warmth. When he’d come back, she’d been absolutely _furious_ – but after Harry and Eggsy had made their amends that first day, she had seemed to ease around him. _No doubt **that** would go out the window, if she ever knew how you think about her son._ He dismissed the uneasy thought from his mind, seeing as how it was _entirely unhelpful_ , and instead focused back on the situation at hand.

“Harry, please. And do come in, Michelle.” She eased her way into the room, eyes naturally darting all around as if to check for hidden threats – a habit that Eggsy had also retained from their years of abuse. Harry felt a flicker of sadness, but didn’t allow it to show; neither Michelle nor Eggsy had ever been appreciative of what they perceived to be _pity_. She eased herself down into one of the chairs in front of his desk, sending him a nervous sort of smile. 

“And where is little Miss Daisy, this afternoon?” He asked, hoping to put her a bit more at ease. Immediately her face lit with a soft smile, and a bit of tension leaked out of her frame.

“Off in the gardens with her big bruv, I expect.” She chuckled a little. “Eggsy came and picked his girl up ‘bout twenty minutes ago, didn’ say where they was goin’. But I know they both like the flowers you lot got out there.” Harry could feel himself smiling as well; he’d come across Eggsy and the little girl in the gardens one time, and the sight had been utterly _enchanting_. 

“He loves her very much.” He said, and Michelle nodded, though the smile began dropping from her face. 

“Has done, since even before she was born. Took care o’ everythin’ for her – basically raised her himself. You must think I’m a terrible mother.” Harry could feel himself startle in genuine surprise, while Michelle just looked resigned and _sad_. 

“I do not.” He leaned a bit more over his desk, wanting to convey his earnestness. “I will admit that I know very little about your circumstances – I know what it is to be tortured, to be harmed. However I can fully realize that I know these things because of the nature of my profession, and that therefore means that to a certain degree, I walked into them _willingly_. You and Eggsy _both_ did not go into your past situation willingly. I can see that you blame yourself for a great many things, Michelle, but I can tell you with all truthfulness that Eggsy blames you for _nothing_. He has said as much to me himself.” She looked on the verge of tears, but Harry sincerely hoped they were for a _good_ reason. 

“He… he really said so to ya?” Harry allowed himself a small smile. 

“He is grateful for all that you did in an effort to protect him and, once she came along, to protect Daisy. He’s a clever lad – he understands much more about the circumstances you were both in than I think you sometimes give him credit for.” He held his breath slightly, hoping he hadn’t overstepped. Michelle was quiet for a moment, absentmindedly pulling her sleeves down over her hands in a way that Harry had seen Eggsy do many a time, the sight making warmth bubble in his chest. 

“Thank you.” She finally said, quietly. She sniffled a little, drawing her frame up straighter in the chair. “I hardly ever knew where he was, y’know. Dean was always sendin’ him off to this place and that, makin’ him deliver his drugs and whatever else – if I tried to stop him, or if I asked too many questions ‘bout where my boy _was_ , he’d just get angry and start… well. He’d start.” Harry could feel what was by now a familiar anger with Dean Baker, his mind briefly flashing back to the day he’d planted his listening device on Eggsy and heard the man threaten the boy’s life so casually. Michelle let out a shaky breath, and Harry kept his thoughts to himself. 

“There was a day where I was sure I was never gonna see him again.” She continued on, and Harry felt his breath catch. “This girl from Eggsy’s school had gone missin’ just the week before, and there were this one night where Dean sent him out – he must o’ been only ten or eleven – ta make a ‘delivery’ fer him. I tried to argue it, but Dean weren’t havin’ none o’ that… Eggsy went out, and I waited up fer him to come back. He didn’ come home all night, and I thought maybe whoever’d nicked Marcy’s lil’ girl had got him, y’know? Next day he came stumblin’ in, early in the mornin’, all covered in cuts and bruises and refusin’ to say where he’d been or what happened to him.” Uneasiness began swirling in Harry’s gut, his heart racing. “That was when it started – him not wantin’ ta be touched. He _still_ won’ talk about it, even now.” She shook her head, as if trying to physically shake off the thoughts. “Anyways,” She continued in a firmer tone of voice. “what I was wantin’ to say is ‘thank you’.” Harry blinked.

“Whatever for?” He asked, not without a bit of confusion.

“For Eggsy. For stoppin’ Dean that day that he had a knife to my boy’s throat. For takin’ him in, and givin’ him a chance to get out o’ the life we had – to make himself somethin’ better. For believin’ in him when no one else did. You don’ understand how much you mean ta him, Harry.” He swallowed hard, finding himself unexpectedly emotional. “And… also, thank you for takin’ us in, too. Me and Daisy. I know this ain’t how you lot normally do things, and I kind of yelled Merlin into lettin’ us in here in the first place, but once Eggsy started… _gettin’ better_ , you didn’ have ta let us stay, and you _did_. So thank you.” Harry was without words, so merely nodded his head in acknowledgement. 

“I was…” Michelle turned once again hesitant, and Harry could feel himself growing curious. “I was wonderin’ if I could ask you fer another favour.”

“But of course,” He said with some surprise. “you have only to ask, and if it is within my or Kingsman’s power, we will endeavour to provide.” Michelle seemed shocked that he would say ‘yes’ without asking what the favour _was_ first, but Harry couldn’t imagine that she would ask for anything too difficult or nefarious. 

“I… well, it’s just… it’s Eggsy’s birthday tomorrow, y’see.” Harry nodded, having already known. “And, I’ve already got a gift fer him – I swear I do! – but, I only just thought of somethin’ else I’d like to do fer him, if it’s possible. But… I would need your help? I dunno if you can do it either, but I thought maybe it wouldn’ hurt to ask?” She looked so painfully nervous, and Harry felt intrigued.

“I’m listening.”

* * *

Eggsy woke up the morning of his birthday to pudgy little baby hands pressing onto his face. Reaching out to grab Daisy’s tiny body before he could even blink himself into proper consciousness, he gave her a little squeeze until she giggled. Once out of his daze, he noticed his mum over by the wardrobe and digging through his clothes.

“Mornin’, mum.” He said, voice still husky with sleep. Michelle turned to send him a blinding smile over her shoulder.

“Happy birthday, babes!” She threw some black denims onto the foot of his bed, and started digging for a shirt. Eggsy sat up, cradling his little sister in his lap, and rubbed a hand over his face.

“Don’ my girl look all nice and pretty?” He murmured, tugging gently at a purple ribbon that had been tied in the little one’s curls. 

“We’s havin’ a proper birthday do, today!” Michelle said enthusiastically while still rummaging, and Eggsy couldn’t help but chuckle. “The others are already waitin’ fer ya, lazy boy.” Stealing one last cuddle before bolstering Daisy with pillows on the bed, he got up to fetch his own pants out of the drawer. _There are just some things a man does not want is mother weedin’ through, after a certain age._ He was into his pants, denims and socks by the time Michelle turned around with a blue polo and a light grey track jacket, looking satisfied with herself. Eggsy hesitated.

“Nah, mum.” He walked over to the wardrobe himself, knowing exactly what he wanted to wear for the day. He pulled the green henley Harry had chosen that day they met with Dagonet off its hanger, quickly slipping it over his head. Michelle looked him up and down, before giving a firm nod. 

“Looks lovely with yer eyes, babes.” It was the first time he’d worn it since the clothes had been delivered, and he couldn’t help the wry smile that crossed his lips at her words. 

“Thanks, mum.” She reached out, and swiftly opened the top three buttons. Eggsy lifted a brow at her in question. 

“What?” She asked, her tone all false innocence that he could easily read through. He stared at her until she cracked. “Nothin’ wrong with showin’ a little skin now and then.” She muttered, dropping her eyes and fussing with the shirt, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles.

“And _why_ am I showin’ some skin?” He asked in amusement, but she refused to raise her eyes. 

“He’s a nice man, Harry.” She said, seemingly out of nowhere. Eggsy smelled a trap.

“He is.”

“Been real good to ya.” 

“He has.” His eyes narrowed further when she peeked up at him from under her lashes, just for a quick second. 

“And ya love him.”

“I do.” There was no denying that, when he’d already told her as much ages ago.

“He cares about ya too, I think.” Eggsy’s eyes narrowed even further.

“He does.” Harry had said so early on, and Eggsy didn’t question it – Harry was a good friend, and had always made it obvious that he thought of Eggsy fondly. Michelle continued fussing with the shirt, and Eggsy reached up to still her hands. “You tryin’ to do some match-makin’ or summat, mum?” He asked suspiciously, and she sighed before finally looking up at him.

“I want ya to be happy, babes. You ain’t had enough happiness in yer life.” Eggsy felt a rush of love for his mum – she was always trying to put him first.

“Thought you had _concerns_ over his age?” He asked warily, but she only smiled at him, if a bit sadly.

“You’ve taken on a job that could get you killed any day, love. If I can trust ya to make up your own mind on summat like _that_ , I can trust ya on _this_ too.” Eggsy let out a little huff of a laugh. _She’s got a point_. “I just… I dunno how he thinks on ya, he’s a hard one to read.” 

“He’s a _spy_ , mum.” She laughed, and squeezed his fingers.

“I know, I know. Like I was _sayin’_ – I dunno how he thinks on ya, but I _do_ know he cares about ya. And, I guess what I’m sayin’ is if someone like him is gonna make ya happy, then I’m alright about that.” She wriggled her fingers out from his, giving one last tug to his shirtsleeves. “So, it don’ hurt to maybe try doin’ some _temptin’_ , yeah?” She finished with a cheeky grin, and Eggsy rolled his eyes with a laugh before pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“I love you too, mum.” After quickly brushing his teeth, he fetched his little girl from her perch on the bed, and they headed out of the room together. “Where are we headed, then?” Michelle’s smile was mischevious.

“Arthur’s sittin’ rooms, o' course.” He hadn’t been sure what he was expecting once they arrived, but it certainly wasn’t the literal breakfast _feast_ laid out across the low table off to the left side of the room. Eggsy wasn’t entirely certain how they’d even managed to _fit_ that much food on such a small table.

“Happy birthday, Eggsy!” Roxy cried, bouncing over to them and giving Daisy a little tickle where she was sat on his hip. “May I?” She asked, gesturing at his face, and Eggsy bent down curiously, if a little cautiously. Roxy pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, over and done with in a second, and he found himself smiling. Merlin and Harry were showing a bit more restraint than Roxy, standing over by the table with big grins on their faces. 

“Happy birthday, Eggsy.” Merlin drawled, looking amused as Eggsy eyed up the room in wonder. There were streamers and balloons all over the ceiling and walls, looking so hilariously out of place with the stuffy old-fashioned furniture that Eggsy couldn’t help but laugh. 

“I can’ believe this…” He murmured. He couldn’t even _remember_ the last time so much effort had been put into his birthday – Dean hadn’t liked having all the noise and whatnot, so birthdays had _always_ been hardly noted around their flat. Daisy was laughing and clapping her little hands, obviously just as caught up with all the bright decorations as he was. He walked closer to the table, coming up beside Harry and feeling just a little bit overwhelmed. Harry reached out slowly – clearly not wanting to startle him – and gripped him lightly by the shoulder, so very much like he had that first day in the Black Prince. 

“Happy birthday, my dear.” He said quietly, and Eggsy grinned up at him. 

“Thanks, Harry.” They all sat to eat their feast of a birthday breakfast, eventually clearing the table once they were sated to make room for many colourfully wrapped gifts. Eggsy stared at the pile in disbelief, the thought of all that _stuff_ being just for him unreal. Roxy had given him a new iPod, already loaded down with a bunch of his favourites as well as some new music that he didn’t know; the packages from Merlin contained books on military history and the fine art of safecracking, making him laugh. There was a little package with a hand-drawn card from Daisy on top that just mostly looked like a bunch of scribbles, and inside had a delicate daisy flower made from crystal.

“Mum…” He breathed, hardly daring to touch the thing from fear that he’d break it. Michelle bit her lip, looking uncertain.

“I know it don’ mean much, usin’ yer own money to buy it…” She started, but he was quick to cut her off.

“Shut up.” He said, not unkindly, and Michelle huffed a small laugh. 

“Saw it in a store when me and yer girl went for a day out in London, and couldn’ leave it behind.” She said, before breaking out in a slightly evil grin. “Shoulda _seen_ the girl’s face, when it turned out someone like _me_ had the money ta pay fer it.” Eggsy laughed, as Roxy rolled her eyes, Merlin huffed in affront, and Harry shook his head ruefully. The others tended to get insulted on their behalf when people looked down their nose at them, but Eggsy and Michelle more just liked to rub their faces in their snobbery, now that they could. The gift labelled from his mum had a new leather jacket, and Eggsy’s cheeks were beginning to ache with all the grinning he was doing. There were two packages left on the table, both with tags claiming they were from Harry. Curious, Eggsy grabbed for the bigger package first – only to burst out laughing upon seeing it’s contents. Out of the paper came spilling movie cases: _Trading Places_ , _Nikita_ , _Pretty Woman_ and _My Fair Lady_. 

“Harry, you absolute _wanker_!” He gasped around his laughter, the older gent grinning along with him. The others just looked _very_ confused, but Eggsy was alright with leaving them in the dark. This was a joke just for him and Harry. He reached for the smaller package, still chuckling, and noticed out of the corner of his eye that the older man suddenly looked a bit nervous. Peeling the paper back, Eggsy realized he was holding some sort of photo frame upside down. Quickly flipping it over, he felt his breath catch. There, grinning up at him, were four figures dressed in dark military-like fatigues – Merlin, Harry, the old Lancelot, and… his dad. He could feel the smile slowly drop from his face as he gazed at the picture, heard his mum’s breath hitch when she leaned over to see what he was looking at. The room around them fell into silence. 

Eggsy couldn’t pull his eyes away from the image of Lee; his dad was grinning in the photo, leaning on Harry’s shoulder while the older gent laughed at something. The two of them looked thick as thieves – mischevious smiles in place as though just waiting for an opportunity to cause some hell. His dad looked happy, and proud. Harry looked so much younger and more unburdened than Eggsy had ever seen him.

“You really do look just like him, babes.” Michelle murmured quietly, pulling him out of his thoughts. Eggsy took a breath, before looking up at Harry. The older man was sitting a bit stiffly, tension in every line of his frame, and looking as though waiting for an explosion. 

“ _Thank you_ , Harry.” He said earnestly, and watched all of that tension disappear on a subtle sigh. Michelle cleared her throat, a slightly watery smile slipping onto her face.

“One more present for ya, love.” Eggsy blinked at the empty table before him, and looked at her curiously. 

“Don’ need more, mum. You’ve all given me lots already.” She smiled a little more genuinely, before explaining.

“This one’s sort of from all o’ us… I had an idea, but it were yer people here what made it happen.” He glanced around the room, all of them now smiling excitedly. Michelle shushed Daisy when she babbled a little, as Harry leaned forward with what looked like an ordinary file folder, tied shut with a coloured bow. Taking the folder curiously, Eggsy slid the ribbon off and opened it. It took him a moment to process what, exactly, he was looking at. 

“You… you changed her name.” It wasn’t really a question, since he had the proof right there in front of his eyes. There, in his lap, were legal documents for one Daisy _Unwin_. It was obviously Merlin’s work – it was as if Daisy Baker had never existed, as if she’d been Daisy Unwin since the day she was born. He picked up her birth certificate, seeing that the section listing ‘father’ was now blank, where it had always _used_ to have Dean listed. Under the certificate was a copy of a will, bearing his mum’s name. Frowning in concentration, a quick read through showed why it had been included in the folder – it said that should anything happen to his mum, legal guardianship of Daisy went to him and no one else. “I… what?”

“I’d done a lot of thinkin’, right.” His mum began, and Eggsy was a bit shocked to see nervousness on her face when he looked up at her. “Eggsy, babes… You been more father to this lil’ girl than Dean _ever_ were. And I figured, that since she’d been _raised_ by an Unwin, well then that meant she _were_ an Unwin, yeah? Why should she have to share a name with a man who never wanted her, never loved her, never took care o’ her in _any_ way? And… well, we’s always sayin’ that she’s _yours_. So I wanted to make sure that if anythin’ happened to me, that legally she’d be goin’ straight ta you, like she should.” Eggsy was absolutely speechless, as his mum turned to look at Harry. “I dunno how you got this all done in one day, and I’m thinkin’ I probably don’ want to.” Harry chuckled, waving a hand in Merlin’s direction.

“Merlin is the best at what he does.” He said, and the man in question grinned in satisfaction.

“Wasn't any trouble, dinna worry yourself over it.” Eggsy just shook his head in disbelief.

“…Eggsy? Babes, is this all alright?” Michelle asked, back to looking a bit nervous. Before he could respond, Daisy gave a sharp cry from his mum’s lap. Looking down, he could see that she’d bumped her knee a bit where her leg was close to the table. “Ah, damn.” Michelle swore quietly, rubbing Daisy’s back a bit before Eggsy reached over and took her for himself.

“S’alright, mum.” He said, grinning down at his little girl’s face. “We’s a strong breed, us Unwins.”


	10. Chapter 10

He was staring out the window, Daisy cuddled to his chest, as the others made to leave the room for parts unknown. The soft pad of footsteps against the posh as fuck carpet alerted him to the fact that someone was coming up behind him, but Eggsy found himself relaxing almost immediately as the scent of _sandalwood amber warmth_ hit his nose. 

“Thanks for all this, Harry.” He heard a quiet chuckle, the older man coming to a stop just behind his right shoulder. 

“Would you believe me if I told you that the decorations were Merlin’s idea?” Eggsy turned to face Harry, his expression one of disbelief.

“Are you takin’ the piss?” Harry’s eyes crinkled with his smile, little crow’s feet forming at the edges and making Eggsy want to smile with him. 

“I am not,” Harry assured, and Eggsy couldn’t help but laugh. “just don’t let him know that I told you.” Daisy let out a giggle, obviously enjoying their mirth. 

“Uncle Merlin’s terribly silly isn’ he, lil’ flower?” He tickled her belly and she giggled again, stretching up a bit to rub the top of her head against his chin. Glancing up, Eggsy noticed Harry watching the two of them with an odd look to his face. “Wassa matter, Harry?” The older gent cleared his throat, looking away to gaze out the window in front of them. 

“Eggsy… Do you recall our conversation in Fitting Room One that first night that you came to Kingsman?” He could feel his brows pulling together, unsure of where he was leading him with the question.

“I’ll watch the movies, Harry. Don’ worry.” Harry’s lips pulled into a small smile, but it quickly faded. 

“No, my dear.” He replied. “I believe your exact words at the time were _Do you think I’ve got anything to lose?_ But Eggsy… That wasn’t strictly truthful, was it?” He gave the tiny bundle busy patting at Eggsy’s face a very pointed look. It might have taken a moment, but the lightbulb finally fucking switched _on_.

“You’re thinkin’ about me dad?” He asked, but Eggsy knew he had the right of it when Harry’s expression twisted into a pained grimace, just for a moment. He tightened his grip a bit on Daisy, as he thought about what he wanted to say – it was a fair thing for Harry to be worried over, since it would probably be Harry that would have to deliver the news _again_ if anything ever happened to Eggsy in the field. “I won’ lie to ya, Harry – growin’ up without me dad was pretty fuckin’ horrible, yeah? But that was mostly because of _Dean_ , ya get me? I think that if Dean had never come along, things woulda been alright; we’d have managed it, mum and me. And after I first found out about Kingsman and what dad had _really_ been up to, there was a bit where I was sort of _angry_ with him… How could he just go off and try to be a fuckin’ _spy_ when he had a wife and kid at home, yeah?” Eggsy remembered laying in his candidate bunk, trembling in rage over the thought that he and Michelle had been so easy for Lee to abandon. 

“But here’s the thing, Harry…” He continued, turning his face up to see that the older man was watching him carefully. “I realized one day _exactly_ why my dad decided to throw in with you lot. It’s the same reason why I didn’ even bat a fuckin’ eye at it – it’s because of _this_.” He gave Daisy a little jiggle, emphasizing just what he was referring to, while making her giggle again and tuck her face into his neck. “I’ve seen the kind of shite that this world is capable of, and I’ll be stone cold in the fuckin’ _ground_ before I ever let any of it touch her. There ain’t a single thing that I won’ do for her – and if I die doin’ this, Harry… Then I’ve died keepin’ that promise.” Harry regarded him seriously for a moment, looking unbearably sad. 

“There are days where I can hardly believe that you’re only twenty-four.” Eggsy could feel the corner of his lip twitch.

“…’scuse you, that’s twenty- _five_ as of today.” Harry huffed out a bit of a laugh, but Eggsy knew that the topic of conversation was far too serious for the amusement to last. True to form, the lines of the older man’s face quickly fell back into solemnity. 

“You’re so _young_ , Eggsy.” 

“If I’ve learned _anythin’_ in the life I’ve lived, Harry… it’s that age is just a fuckin’ _number_ , bruv. The shite we go through, the ways we suffer, _that’s_ what really ‘ages’ you, ya get me?” Harry still looked a bit unconvinced, and Eggsy tried to stifle his frustration – it wasn’t Harry’s fault that they’d had such wildly different experiences growing up. “Do ya really think I hadn’t had to fight for me life a hundred times _before_ V-Day?” Surprise crossed Harry’s face, but he was quick to frown.

“I know that things were quite difficult growing up, Eggsy, but – ” He shook his head, seeing that the older man wasn’t quite understanding him.

“Nah, Harry. Here, tell me this – how did you spend your fourteenth birthday?” 

“…My parents threw me a party, I suppose.” He replied, though to Harry’s credit he looked like he couldn’t quite remember and was just assuming. 

“I spent mine sewin’ up a stab wound to my thigh in me mum’s bath with some fishin’ wire.” Harry’s shoulders slumped, and Eggsy felt bad for making him look so sad, but he had a point that he wanted to get across. “After I got it all patched up, I ran a delivery for Dean, cooked supper for all the adults lazin’ about the flat, and then went straight ta bed so’s I could get as much sleep as possible before the bastard asked me to do somethin’ _else_ fer him. Now you tell me, Harry – think o’ yerself at fourteen, and then _me_ at fourteen, and tell me which of us was ‘older’.” Realization dawned, and Harry nodded his head slightly.

“Yes, I see now what you mean, my dear.” He said, a sort of tired sound to his voice. “I would imagine that you have lived through more in your twenty-five years than most men _my_ age, in such a sense.” Eggsy felt himself smile, just a little bit.

“Don’ make yerself sound so fuckin’ _ancient_ , bruv.” Harry laughed lightly at that. 

“There _are_ days…” The tense atmosphere that they’d fallen into was further broken when Daisy suddenly reached out, little arms waving in the air.

“…’ry!” She chirped, looking up at Harry with big doe eyes, making grabby fists in his general direction. 

“May I?” He asked, and Eggsy felt his heart thump heavily in his chest. He handed his little girl over without a qualm, knowing that Harry was a remarkably gentle person for someone trained to kill in about a million different ways. Daisy settled easily into Harry’s arms, seeming content to inspect the older gent from up close. The two regarded each other for a moment before Daisy made a grab for his face, causing Harry to smile. “Eggsy…” He began after a moment, expression becoming serious once more when he looked up at the younger man. “I want you to know that should… should anything ever go _wrong_ ,” and oh, he sounded so very _pained_ to even think of it, “that I will take care of them – your mother and your sister. I won’t just leave them with a favour like I did the first time; I’ll ensure that they’ll never want for _anything_ , I swear it.” Eggsy’s throat felt tight, and if he hadn’t already loved the man that would have sunk him right there.

* * *

“It weren’t your fault about my dad, Harry.” The familiar guilt over Lee’s death gnawed at his stomach, and Harry pressed a kiss to little Daisy’s forehead to ease the feeling. 

“But it _was_.” He insisted, only for Eggsy to shake his head hard, reaching out both hands to grip Harry’s upper arms tightly. He wasn’t entirely certain that the young man even realized what he was doing, but far be it from him to try and stop Eggsy from touching. 

“No, Harry. I’ve watched the videos, mate – I seen _exactly_ what happened that day.” It was like a blow to his chest; how could Eggsy have brought himself to watch video footage of his own father’s _death_? The young man would never cease to amaze him with his strength and fortitude. “You told me that first day that my dad saved the lives of every man in the room, but that weren’t exactly true, bruv.” Harry could feel himself frown.

“What? Of _course_ it’s true, Eggsy.” 

“No, it ain’t. Because I _saw_ , Harry – I saw that you was already runnin’ to jump on the grenade before anybody else could even fuckin’ _react_. I saw that dad pushed you back, before jumpin’ on it himself. My dad didn’ save the lives of every man in that room, Harry, because if he hadn’ done it then _you would have_. He saved _your_ life, and he made the decision to do that out o’ his _own free will_.” Harry swallowed hard, unsure how to navigate such a delicate conversation. 

“It was still my fault that such a decision was necessary,” He argued. “I should have seen the grenade in the first place, but _I_ was the one that missed it.” Eggsy seemed to be clenching his jaw, letting out a frustrated growl.

“So I s’pose that _Merlin_ weren’t supposed to have seen it? Or the two fuckin’ recruits who were bein’ _trained to do exactly that thing_? Only the Almighty Harry fuckin’ Hart is responsible?” 

“Well, when you say it like that it just sounds ridiculous.” He watched, bemused, as Eggsy rolled his eyes.

“Because it _is_ fuckin’ ridiculous!” The boy’s face was so painfully earnest. “You keep blamin’ yerself for things that you got no control over, bruv.” 

And there it was, the unspoken horror that was the slaughter of a small church in Kentucky, thrown into the light between them. Harry swallowed hard, averting his eyes back to the window and attempting to keep the coppery smell of blood from his mind. Without thought, he ducked his head and pressed his nose to delicate blonde curls, breathing in the scent of powdery baby skin and flowers instead. Daisy gurgled at him, rubbing her forehead into his cheekbone whilst Harry worked to remind himself that he was back in England. Eggsy’s grip on his upper arms tightened, drawing the boy nearer to him until the little girl was ensconced safely between their chests. 

“Harry.” He called gently, but insistently. _Who could resist such a thing?_ Harry found his gaze returning to Eggsy’s face, light from the window beside them and the green of his shirt making the young man’s eyes seem positively _luminous_. “Listen to me. _It weren’t your fault._ None o’ it was ever your fault – not my dad, not the leavin’ us be afterwards, and sure as fuck not Kentucky.” There was so much strength, so much _conviction_ in Eggsy’s voice, that Harry found himself nodding in response – willing to let Eggsy’s belief in him absolve him of the sins he felt he was due. “You’re a good man, Harry. You may’ve done some bad things in yer life, but you’s still a _good man_. Would you hold any o’ the shite that I done against me?” 

“Of _course_ I wouldn’t.” Of this, he was entirely certain. 

“Then don’ do the same to yourself. I know that’s easier said than done, yeah? But _please_ , Harry… Just _try_.” Eggsy’s grip on his arms squeezed just a bit harder, before easing into something more comforting.

“I’ll try.” He promised, and somehow felt just a bit more _clean_ than a moment ago. Harry caught himself watching the pleased smile spread across Eggsy’s lips, realizing in that moment how incredibly _close_ to each other they were – Daisy was caught between them, seemingly content to be so surrounded - and mere inches separated their faces, with Eggsy’s head tilted back to look Harry in the eye due to the proximity. _It would take nothing at all to close such a small distance_ , his traitorous mind whispered to him, and Harry actually found himself leaning forward ever so slightly before a firm knock on the door forced him back to his senses. He blinked, leaning back just as Eggsy’s hands released their hold on him and dropped back to the boy’s sides, though he was gratified to see that Eggsy didn’t seem to feel the need to step further away.

“Enter.” His voice was a bit gruff, but he rather felt as though there was no helping that, under the circumstances. Merlin poked his head around the door, and Harry only caught his momentary pause at seeing them because of his many years of familiarity with the man. 

“Pardon, Arthur.” He said after clearing his throat, the use of Harry’s title immediately putting both him and Eggsy on edge. _Business it is, then_. “We’ve just got some interesting information on Lancelot and Excalibur’s case – if you have a moment?” Harry traded a glance with Eggsy, the young man immediately reaching out to take hold of his sister.

“I’ll just bring the lil’ bit back to mum, yeah?” He said easily, turning for the door without a second glance. “Be back in a few, you’s can catch me up then.” 

“If you’d be so kind.” Harry murmured, seeing the line of tension in the boy’s back despite the jovial tone to his words. Merlin waited until Eggsy exited the room, before closing the door softly and coming in further. 

“Something about this case is bothering the lad.” The Quartermaster remarked, and Harry couldn’t help but agree. Merlin must have seen as much on his face, as after a moment he asked, “Anything we should be concerned about, Harry?”

“I’m not sure.” He sighed, taking one of the seats at the coffee table, waving Merlin to do the same. “His mother mentioned something to me yesterday that caught my attention.” He struggled momentarily with how much of his conversation with Michelle he should reveal, but as Merlin’s trustworthiness had never been in question, Harry decided to speak plainly. “She told me that when Eggsy was ten or eleven there was a night where he never returned to their flat after his step-father sent him out late. She said that he eventually came home in the early morning, badly damaged, and refused to say what had happened to him or where he had been.” Merlin frowned in concentration and thought, and Harry finished the telling. “She also said… She also said that it was after _that_ circumstance that he did not want to be touched anymore.” The implications of such a thing still burned at Harry’s brain.

“The boy told us before that his step-father didna start _lending_ him to his friends until he was twelve, wasn’t that so?” Harry nodded his head slowly in agreement. “So this was previous to that… interesting.” 

“Eggsy himself told me that his aversion came about prior to Dean Baker’s… dealings.” He practically spat the last word with distaste, wishing longingly to have the man’s neck within his grasp. Merlin leaned back further in his chair, a hand coming up to rub across his chin contemplatively. 

“Ten or eleven,” The other man mused, and Harry knew that they were of a like mind.

“Yes, Michelle mentioned that a girl from Eggsy’s school had just gone missing a couple of weeks previous to this event – I think we can more than likely safely assume that the little girl was ‘Diana’ that Eggsy recognized from the victim photos.” Some buried instinct was telling Harry that he didn’t want to pursue this, but worry for Eggsy and his mental well-being outweighed such a thing. “We have no idea _what_ our perpetrator did with the victims once he took them, but it isn’t difficult to assume that there would be a component of such a depraved nature… An easy enough conclusion for even the boy to come to. If Eggsy suffered a similar trauma, and even at the same age…” 

“Let alone that he knew one of the victims, no matter how loosely. It could mean that this is affecting him too greatly – that he’s empathizing with the victims too much.” Harry nodded his head once more, tamping down the dread that was rising within him. “Should we take him off the case, Harry? This is much more complicated than him having a _slight_ personal tie to one of the missing children – if his own experiences and trauma distract him…” 

“I don’t know.” Harry admitted reluctantly. “I don’t know what would be the best thing to do here… I _do_ think that Eggsy is capable of performing his duty with a clear head _despite_ his experiences and trauma – look at how he handled himself the other week with Riggs, for instance. But I also admit that this is no small trifling matter...”

“And you want to protect the boy.” Merlin raised a brow at him, and Harry stifled the urge to roll his eyes.

“Of _course_ I want to protect him, you arse. We always want to protect those we care for, do we not?”

“Love.” Merlin corrected, and Harry found himself unable to deny it.

“Yes, those we love.” Merlin smirked at him in satisfaction over the admission, but quickly became serious once more. 

“So what do we do, then?”

_Bugger if I know._

* * *

By the time Eggsy dropped Daisy off to his mum and made it back to Arthur’s sitting rooms, Roxy had already joined the two older gents at the coffee table with freshly brewed tea. He dropped himself down onto the settee beside her, reaching gratefully for the cup she held out. 

“I like that shirt, Eggsy.” She said idly as she handed the tea over. “It looks lovely with your eyes.” He couldn’t help but snicker a little at the way Harry’s face went all exasperated looking, a slight flush pinking his cheeks. _I’m never gonna let him live that one down._

“Thanks, Rox. So I’ve been told.” There was an odd tension between Merlin and Harry that Eggsy couldn’t quite put his finger on, though Roxy seemed to be blissfully ignorant of it. “You said you’ve found somethin’, Merlin?” He prompted, before taking a sip of his tea. Merlin cleared his throat, throwing an indecipherable look at Harry. 

“Yes. The data that you retrieved from Riggs’ mobile had lead us to a few possibilities for contacts that could be our main target; I and my team had been looking into each of these so that we could determine what your and Lancelot’s next move should be – that is, until just now.” Merlin’s face was so serious, that both he and Roxy couldn’t help but tense up in reflex.

“What’s happened?” She demanded, voice like winter snow and all business. 

“Kingsman was contacted.” Harry said, and though the words may have been light, to Eggsy he looked ready to commit _murder_. “By the target himself.” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“But… _how_?!” Eggsy burst out incredulously. “How could he have traced us?” Merlin’s mouth twisted in a snarl, and he could imagine that the Quartermaster was taking such a breach of their systems _very_ personally.

“I’m working on it.” He muttered, a little resentfully to Eggsy’s ears.

“When you say _contacted_ …” Roxy began, steering them back on track. Harry’s eyes flickered to Eggsy’s face, before focusing back on her. 

“The target left a message buried within the data for us to find. Merlin is absolutely certain that this message was not there when the data was first retrieved, which means that they must have breached our systems in order to place it.” He could feel a low anger beginning to burn in his gut – the mansion was supposed to be _safe_. 

“What did the message say?” He demanded, wondering in the back of his mind why Harry seemed so reluctant to just say it outright. He didn’t have long to wonder. 

“It said _The King is dead, long live the King_.” Eggsy’s hands trembled, rattling the teacup noisily on its saucer before Roxy took it from his numb grip, but his mind was too embroiled in flashing images to notice.

_Chester King cursing him with his last breath, body slumping heavily to the table in death._

_Polite applause as Harry is announced as their new Arthur, their new King._

_His own voice, all posh vowels that sit wrong upon his tongue…_

_“Society is dead, long live Society.”_


	11. Chapter 11

“Merlin.” Eggsy’s voice held an odd urgency to it, and Harry was momentarily puzzled when the man in question seemed to understand what the boy wasn’t saying. 

“I know, Eggsy.” He replied, and Roxy’s brow furrowed. 

“Care to share with the rest of the class?” She asked dryly, but all that Harry could focus on was how _pale_ the boy had suddenly turned. 

“Those words, yeah?” Eggsy began to explain to her, clenching his hands together until his knuckles turned white. “It’s gotta be one of two things – either the target is threatenin’ _Harry_ …”

“ _The King is dead, long live the King_.” Roxy murmured, nodding her head. “It does seem to be rather direct, what with Chester’s demise and Harry’s coronation in his place. But what else _could_ it be?” Harry watched as the boy and Merlin traded another uneasy glance.

“In Valentine’s lair, in the mountains… I said somethin’ similar when I was sweet-talkin’ my way onto a computer, right – I said _Society is dead, long live Society_.” Harry briefly recalled the exchange from when he had reviewed the video footage of V-Day, but at the time had disregarded it as largely unimportant. Roxy leaned further back on the settee, brow furrowed in thought.

“So you’re wondering if perhaps there’s some kind of tie there – if the message is rather more aimed at _you_ than Harry.” She observed, before giving her head a slight shake. “It seems to be a bit of stretch, doesn’t it?”

“Yes and no.” Merlin cut in. “Someone with enough technical skills to be able to break into our system would’ve had no problem with even Valentine’s safeguards – it’s entirely plausible that they had access to the security cameras around the lair, and therefore could have seen and overheard Eggsy’s words. However, if that _is_ the case, the question would then become _why_? Why would such a thing have been significant to the target? And why Eggsy? It leaves more questions than it answers.” 

“Or, there’s the third option.” Harry remarked, and all eyes turned to him with varying degrees of confusion. 

“Third?” Eggsy asked, and Harry felt his lips press into a grim smile. 

“It’s a threat to the _both_ of us.” The silence that followed his statement was absolute. He watched as Eggsy’s eyes widened in realization, the pallor of his face increasing. Merlin seemed to be contemplating the thought with all the seriousness that it was due.

“That would actually make some sense.” The Quartermaster mused. “Someone with the skills to get past my systems would naturally have the ego to go _with_ those skills – hence the showing off and dramatics. Threaten the head of the organization, prove that you know enough about them to know they’ve had a recent change in leadership… Classic intimidation attempt.”

“But for _that_ large of an ego, that would hardly be a sufficient amount of showing off.” Roxy muttered bitterly in understanding. “Ergo, the very deliberate wording of the message; it would just scream _I know all about you **and** your agents_ , wouldn’t it?” Harry nodded his agreement, feeling dread settle heavily in his gut.

“If our target _had_ been observing the goings-on of Valentine’s lair that day via his cameras, it wouldn’t have taken very much effort to figure out who Eggsy was working for.” He said, and watched as Merlin’s jaw twitched. “Valentine himself referred to him as ‘that Kingsman kid’, which would have been perfectly audible to our target, as well as the _minor_ detail that _every fucking thing we own is covered in the Kingsman insignia_.” 

“Always did think that was sorta… not subtle.” Eggsy said, while Merlin snorted derisively.

“Due primarily to Chester and his fucking _pride_ , and something I have every intention of rectifying, my dear.” Harry assured and, despite the serious topic at hand, had to suppress a smile at Merlin’s mutter of “Thank fucking Christ.”

“Of course, this is all just conjecture, isn’t it?” Roxy asked, and Harry hummed his agreement. “I mean, we can theorize about it all we want, but we aren’t going to actually _know_ unless our target makes another move.” 

“The wonderful thing about large egos, Lancelot, is that if they go unobserved they will inevitably act out in larger and more obvious ways.” A dangerous grin twisted his face, the thought of reeling in whoever would _dare_ use Eggsy in an attempt to intimidate them making the little beast within his chest purr in delight. 

“I don’ like this, Harry.” Eggsy’s voice was quiet, but held enough seriousness to make them all pause. “Any way you cut this, he’s threatenin’ ya. That ain’t somethin’ to take lightly, bruv.” He could feel his face soften in understanding, the selflessness of the boy humbling him once again – Eggsy was showing no concern over his _own_ well-being, only Harry’s. 

“I assure you, Eggsy, I will take appropriate precautions.” He kept his voice soothing, but it seemed to not be enough, as the boy was shaking his head.

“Nah. Nah, that ain’t good enough, Harry.” There was the barest tremor to the young man’s voice. “We’s royally fucked if somethin’ happens to ya.” The worry in his face seemed excessive to the situation at hand, and Harry was momentarily confused until the pieces finally came together. _He watched you get shot in the face, and believed you to be dead for almost three months. Of **course** a potential threat to your life would make him react like this._ Harry could have kicked himself for not understanding it more quickly. 

“Perhaps until we get this sorted, I’ll temporarily move myself into a room here at the mansion, then.” He said, and watched as some of the tension leaked out of the boy’s rigid frame. Harry knew that he could handle any threat that may find him at his home, but if it would put the young man more at ease, he would gladly do such a thing. 

“Yeah, good.” Eggsy cleared his throat a little roughly, a bit of colour coming back to his pale cheeks. On the settee next to him, Roxy was eyeing the boy up with an expression that Harry couldn’t quite understand. _Perhaps it’s not important._

“So where do we go from here, then?” The girl eventually said, turning her attention back to Merlin and Harry. The Quartermaster rubbed a hand over his bald head, letting out a tired sigh. 

“I’ll have my work cut out for me finding the breach that the target took advantage of, but in the meantime we’ve compiled information on some likely candidates as to the bastard’s identity from Riggs’ mobile data.” He placed three of the Kingsman tablets on the table, looking frustrated. “Given that we’re dealing with someone handy with technology, there are a few individuals where we have names but no accompanying faces – they’ve covered their identities well in that sense; it will take more time to make progress there.” 

“Excellent work, Merlin.” Harry said, trying to shrug off the tiredness that even the _thought_ of going through all those files had instilled in him. “You can get back to your investigation, and we will begin going through what you’ve gathered for us.” Eggsy groaned, as if he was back in school and being told to do homework, and Harry felt his lips twitch in amusement.

* * *

_“Stop your crying now, boy. Don’t be a **bad dog**.” It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts. I don’ wanna be here._

_The smell of burning flesh. **Pain**. So much pain._

_I want my mum!_

_“Let me go!”_

_“Shut up, or you’ll be punished. Be good.”_

_Bad dog._

_Bad dog._

_Bad dog._

Eggsy came awake with a gasp, pressing a hand low on his abdomen. The pain was as sharp and fresh in his mind as it had been fourteen years beforehand, and a rising swell of nausea hit him. He made a mad dash to his connected bath, getting there just in time before the retching started. 

When there was nothing left, he slumped to the floor – the cool tiles soothing to his sick and trembling body. _This ain’t good, Eggsy_. He could still smell the acrid scent of burning skin, though he knew that it was just in his mind; he felt as though he could choke on the very air around him. He laid there with his eyes pressed tightly shut, forcing himself to breathe through it, so distracted in his distress that he didn’t know he wasn’t alone until a hand gripped his shoulder. He struck out on instinct, jerking himself away from the grasping hand when the surprise of his attack forced it to release, while his mind just ran in a litany of _let me go, let me go, let me go_.

“…sy! Eggsy!” His eyes snapped open at the call of his name, still choking on the foul scent of his memory. Harry’s concerned face swam before his blurry eyes, and some distant ridiculous part of his brain registered the fact that the older man was clad only in a threadbare tee and loose pyjama trousers. “Eggsy!” Harry called again, hands hovering in the air about a foot away from his naked torso, obviously hesitant to touch and make it all worse. Without even thinking about it, Eggsy dove forward, grasping the front of Harry’s tee and yanking the startled man closer. 

“ _Harry_!” He gasped, pressing his face into the older man’s neck and taking in large, greedy gulps of air – letting the scent of _sandalwood amber warmth_ wipe everything else from his mind. He twisted the soft tee between his fingers until his joints ached, feeling a touch as light as butterfly wings to his lower back, as though Harry was afraid to enclose him too firmly. He slid his free arm around Harry’s narrow waist, unconsciously gripping his hip tight enough to leave bruises as he just _breathed_. Tremors raced over his tension-filled frame, hardly noting when the older man shifted to be sitting on the ground with Eggsy sprawled across his lap, rather than kneeling on the hard tile. The hand on his back began lightly rubbing up and down his sweat-soaked skin, soothing. 

“Eggsy?” Harry’s voice was soft and tentative, hardly a whisper, but the sound made him bury his face into the man’s neck all the harder. _Safe, safe, the kind man means safe_. The voice in his head was not the twenty-five year old man that he was, but the terrified quaver of an eleven year old _child_. Harry’s other arm came up across his shoulders, the hand delicately settling on the back of his neck, and the embrace making him feel surrounded, _protected_. 

“Sorry I hit you…” He mumbled after some time, keeping his face hidden where it was. Harry’s grip on the back of his neck tightened just the slightest bit, before relaxing again.

“There is no need for an apology, my dear. Would you like me to let you go?” Harry asked carefully, and Eggsy couldn’t help but feel just a little more warm at his obvious concern. 

“No.” He said simply, his already tight grip on Harry’s hip and the tee firming even more from fear that Harry would make him move. He relaxed slightly when the older man began rubbing his back again. 

“Would you care to talk about it?” Harry asked after a few moments of silence, but even just the thought made the queasy feeling come back to Eggsy’s stomach. _Fuck that_.

“Just a bad dream, bruv. Ain’t nothin’ to talk about.” He felt Harry’s chest rise with a deeper breath, before letting it out slowly.

“Must have been quite the dream.” He murmured. “I could hear you from my room.” He felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment, suddenly _very_ glad that he had his face pressed out of the other’s view. Eggsy knew that given his past, and the line of work that they were both in, that having nightmares was nothing to be embarrassed about – he fucking _knew_ that, alright? But he’d never enjoyed feeling _weak_ no matter the circumstances, and he sure as fuck didn’t enjoy feeling weak in front of _Harry_. He knew Harry wouldn’t hold it against him, that Harry wouldn’t tell nobody about it, but… that didn’t mean he _liked_ it.

“Did you wanna get up?” He asked instead. “Floor’s prob’ly not doin’ ya any favours.” Eggsy didn’t want to get up, didn’t want to leave the safe haven that he’d found in the older man, but couldn’t help but feel like he was being a bother. Harry’s arms tightened around him the slightest bit.

“I’m fine.” He murmured, turning his head so that it almost felt like his lips were pressed to Eggsy’s hair. “Wouldn’t mind a bit more of a cuddle, if that’s alright.” Eggsy snorted a soft laugh, letting some of the tension in his shoulders go.

“Fuckin’ _wanker_ , you are. Think you’re bloody _hilarious_ , don’ ya.” He felt Harry’s chuckle through where he was pressed against his chest, more than he heard it.

“I’m a fucking _delight_.” The older man returned, and Eggsy found himself grinning. 

“A posh twat.” 

“Well, that’s not very nice. Some of us can’t help our circumstances, Eggsy – you have no idea how I struggled, growing up being given my every whim and the best education money could buy.” The laughter escaped Eggsy’s throat, and he pressed his forehead more firmly to Harry’s collarbone. 

“Oh, yeah. Such a hardship fer ya, I bet. Can’ _begin_ to imagine the pain of growin’ up in them fancy houses and such, servants always buzzin’ about. Must have been _horrible_.” Harry’s laughter joined his, and it felt like the last bit of darkness left the room. 

_I’m always safe with Harry._

* * *

Though the sound of Eggsy’s laughter eased the tight feeling in his chest somewhat, Harry’s concern still gnawed at him. He’d awoken in the middle of the night, not quite sure at first what it was that had ripped him from his slumber. The room around him had been still and quiet, until his ears caught the faintest noise – a noise that sounded suspiciously like a muffled scream. Where many would have probably rationalized the noise away, Harry’s many years as an agent had taught him not to discount what his senses were telling him.

He’d sprung from his bed, tearing out the door barefoot and without so much as a dressing gown, his heart pounding in fear when he heard another faint scream and recognized it as _Eggsy’s_. The trip to the boy’s own bedroom was a short one, as Harry had deliberately chosen to place himself close; he threw open the door and turned on the lights, only to find the room empty – the sheets of the bed tossed all over, trailing down to the floor, and damp spots of sweat in the shape of Eggsy’s back still drying upon them. Noticing that the door to the ensuite bath was cracked open, it wasn’t terribly difficult to guess where the boy had gone.

He hadn’t been entirely prepared for the sight that was to greet him, however.

Eggsy was slumped on the floor, forehead pressed to the tiles below him and seemingly struggling for breath. Harry’s first thought was that there was something medically wrong – had the boy been poisoned somehow? He reached out to grip Eggsy’s shoulder, thinking to turn him over and have a better look at his condition, and thus was caught entirely off-guard for the quick strike to his chest, letting the young man go in his surprise. 

He was even _more_ startled when Eggsy instead yanked him closer, seemingly doing his best to burrow himself into Harry’s chest and hiding his face in his neck. He could feel frantic breaths puffing against his skin, his concern only growing as he could feel the trembling in the body he held. Though he was relieved to find out that it was merely the after-effects of a bad dream – and not that someone had impossibly made it into the mansion in order to _poison the boy, honestly Harry_ – he could not bring himself to relax fully. Harry had felt all along that there was something _seriously_ wrong going on, but this seemed to cement the idea all the more. 

They sat on the floor in silence for some time, while Harry contemplated what would be the best course of action – there were things going on in Eggsy’s mind that could have incredibly harmful effects, and he worried about what that could mean for the young man’s health and happiness. Deciding that he would discuss the possibility of removing him from the current case with Eggsy himself, Harry was just about to speak when he noticed the even breaths puffing against his collarbone, and the increased heaviness to the smaller man’s form. _He’s fallen asleep_ , Harry thought with a touch of fondness. 

Manuvering carefully, he took his hand from Eggsy’s neck and instead slid the arm under his bent knees, keeping a firm hold around his back as he painstakingly raised to his feet. He ignored the popping in his own knees and back as he hefted the young man’s weight, slowly making his way back to the disheveled bed, only to wrinkle his nose at the state of the sheets. _I can hardly put him to sleep in **that**_. Making a quick decision and refusing to look at it too closely, he instead made for his own room. Being able to pull back the comforter and sheet on the right side of his bed while not dropping his passenger took some creativity, but eventually Harry managed to get Eggsy settled on the soft mattress. He was just about to pull the comforter over the young man’s half-naked and no doubt chilled form, when his body shifted slightly to the left and caused his loose pyjama trousers to slide a touch lower.

Harry frowned as a dark patch very low on the boy’s abdomen caught his eye, indistinguishable in the dimness of the bedroom. Remembering the mark that he’d briefly spotted that long-ago day in the gym, Harry felt his curiosity get the better of him – he silently retrieved a tiny torch from the night table drawer, clicking it on and blocking the majority of the light with his hand, so as not to wake Eggsy. He was castigating himself in his mind about the inappropriateness of the situation – really, it was an almost _indecent_ area in which to be looking – as he aimed the muted light to get a better view. There, in raised scar tissue, seemed to be some kind of… pattern? _No_ , he corrected himself, _not a pattern. It looks like letters? A-J-M?_ The realization of what the scar represented was sudden, and utterly _horrifying_.

Because Harry’d had enough of his own injuries in the line of duty that he could easily distinguish that those letters had been _burned_ onto the boy.

_Someone had the fucking audacity to **brand** him, to put their mark on him! Someone branded **my** Eggsy._

Harry’s hands shook as he clicked off the torch, horror and possessiveness sweeping him in equal turns and making his head feel fuzzy. He finally pulled the comforter gently over the young man as if on autopilot, shuffling quietly to the other side of the large bed and crawling in. Eggsy slept on, oblivious, as Harry laid there and plotted bloody murder. 

The sun crept into the sky out the window, as the thoughts in Harry’s mind turned ever more dark.


	12. Chapter 12

Eggsy woke up warm and feeling oddly serene, given the night that he’d had. He remembered the nightmare that had roused him the first time – _Not just a dream, mate. Stop lyin’ to yourself_ – and running for the bath. He remembered being terrified and lost in his own head, before being wrapped up in Harry. 

_Harry._

He couldn’t, however, remember how he’d gotten back to bed; he hoped that he hadn’t been too much of a bother for the older man. _Speakin’ of Harry…_ One of the first thoughts that properly filtered through his sluggish brain was that the sheets around him smelled of _sandalwood amber warmth_ , before he noticed that he was tucked in rather snugly, whereas normally Eggsy had a tendency to kick the blankets all over the place. Cracking his eyes open, he was greeted with an unfamiliar room – all dark woods and navy blues, and decidedly _not_ the pale lilac of his own bedroom walls. _Where the fuck am I?_

Sitting up and letting the thick comforter fall to his waist, he glanced around him a little more alertly. Eggsy had always been the observant sort, even before shipping off to fucking _spy camp_ , so it was no effort whatsoever to start picking up the little details – the sideboard across the room with a decanter of Harry’s favourite brandy; the stray pair of cufflinks on the night table beside him that matched the ones Harry’d had on the day before; the edge of a suit jacket sleeve that could be seen through the cracked open wardrobe door, which closely resembled one of his own only in a taller fit. All that combined with the scent of Harry all over the sheets, it didn’t take any kind of genius to sort out exactly _whose_ room he was in. 

All that was missing was the man himself – which, speaking of, Eggsy’s excellent observation skills also didn’t fail to overlook the fact that the sheets on the opposite side of the bed were rumpled as if a body had been there recently, and _holy fuck did Harry just share a fucking bed with him?!_

Everything in Eggsy froze. Normal brain functions were not happening. _At all_. 

See, the thing was, thoughts of Harry and _bed_ weren’t exactly new to Eggsy – but they’d always been a little more _abstract_ , yeah? When they’d first met again outside of Holborn, it’d been a sort of complicated thing; he’d taken one look at the man who’d gotten him released and thought to himself _Fuck yeah, you could get it_. Mixed in with the fact that he’d fully expected Harry to want ‘services’ in return for bailing him out, Eggsy had figured he’d end up in the loo on his knees or pressed face-first to the brick wall of an alley. He’d been blown away when _neither_ happened. 

And then he’d met Harry at the tailor shop, and been asked to join him in a tiny fitting room, and had thought to himself _Of course, proper posh twat like him would want it somewhere comfortable, yeah? Not just some back alley._ He’d gone into the room with expectations of how things were gonna go down – and had even privately thought that for the first time, he maybe wouldn’t mind it so much – but yet again had been proven wrong. Harry hadn’t so much as laid a hand on him in the elevator, and with that one fucking fact had secured Eggsy’s devotion to him – despite hardly knowing each other at the time.

So once it’d been made clear that Harry was never gonna expect him to bend over as ‘payment’ for the favour he’d received, the entire concept of Harry and bed had sort of _morphed_ in Eggsy’s mind. Harry was fit as hell and aged like fine fucking wine (Eggsy does have functioning eyes in his head, thanks very much), but that wouldn’t really have been enough on it’s own. He’d dealt with plenty of attractive twats in his time that deserved nothing better than getting a few bricks to the face, yeah? The real thing that had started sinking Eggsy was how _kind_ Harry was – he’d grown up with money and status, but fully believed that all people were equal; he’d taken one look at Eggsy and seen so much more than some stupid chavvy _criminal_. It was Harry’s kindness that had started Eggsy to sometimes (secretly, just in his head) wondering what the older gent might be like in bed – did he prefer blokes, or girls? Would he even have an interest in someone nearly _half his fucking age_ , or did he prefer his partners to be more like him? Would he like things slow and soft, or was he the type to let loose and have it rough? All things that Eggsy had never given a toss about before, with _anyone_ , but during training he’d catch himself wondering it about his mentor… _a lot_. 

‘Course, then Harry’d gone into a coma – the _first_ time – and Eggsy’d sat at his bedside like some soppy battlefield wife every fucking chance he’d gotten. 

He’d overheard the medical staff call him _Galahad’s boy_ more times than he could count, and he couldn’t even bring himself to object to it – a part of him maybe liked the idea of belonging to Harry, in some way. He wasn’t even sure what sort of relationship they’d thought the two of them had, at the time; they all knew he was Harry’s candidate, of course, but he got the feeling that they’d all wondered from there. It wasn’t hard to watch their faces and be able to read what they were thinking – some of them thought that maybe he was family, a distant relation of some sort perhaps; others thought that he was Harry’s ward or some such, like a proper Little Orphan Annie type of thing (and to be honest, Harry would make a great Daddy Warbucks). But the majority of them… Well. They would see the way he was there every day, whenever he could get away, and see how he fretted – they’d watch while he held Harry’s limp hand and begged him in whispers to please wake up – and they assumed _lover_. 

Hindsight being twenty-twenty and all that shit, Eggsy could be honest enough with himself to recognize that he’d probably _already_ been in love with Harry, even back then.

See, as much as he’d wondered about Harry’s _preferences_ and whatnot during his training, it had still been in that abstract sort of way – thinking about the particulars of how he liked things, but never really putting them in context of anything having to do with _himself_. When he’d thought Harry was _dead_ , it was like a bright fucking light had shined onto it all; because to his mind, Harry was dead and Eggsy was never gonna get the chance to tell him that he loved him, would never get the chance to _touch_ Harry or maybe try _kissing_ Harry, and… And that’s when he’d realized, that he _wanted_ to. That for the first time, there was somebody that he _wanted_ to do those things with, and not because he _had_ to. And he was already gone, what a fucking shame.

Except he _wasn’t_ , at the end of it all. 

Harry had practically risen from the fucking grave, and Eggsy hadn’t known what to do with all the things he’d discovered about himself while Harry’d been gone. So he’d started small – reaching out for a touch here and there, accepting small touches from Harry – because the _last_ thing he’d wanted was to try and jump into things and make the discovery that he wasn’t as okay with Harry as he’d thought in the _worst_ way possible. And that had been… _good_. He’d gotten the realization through his traumatized brain over the last few months that no matter what the situation, that he was _always_ safe with Harry. That he always _felt_ safe. 

So, it wasn’t really a shock in the grand scheme of things that he was bit put out that he’d apparently missed every fucking moment of sharing a bed with Harry for the first time. _Obviously_ nothing had ‘happened’ – knowing Harry and his gentlemanly tendencies, he’d probably put Eggsy to bed, tucked him in, and then kept rigidly to his side for the entirety of the night. Might have even made a little wall of pillows between them, who fucking knows with him. 

Chuckling to himself over his thoughts, Eggsy finally crawled out of Harry’s bed and made for his own room to get ready for the day.

* * *

“I want to see Excalibur’s medical records. _Now_.” Harry couldn’t blame Merlin for looking shocked and confused, seeing as his abrupt entrance to the room probably made him look half-crazed; he wasn’t even dressed properly, for Christ sakes. He’d been so concerned about leaving quietly, not wanting to wake Eggsy from the sleep he so obviously needed, that all he’d managed to put on was some dress trousers and a button up – no jacket, no tie, no cufflinks. Finding himself far too concerned to actually give a damn about his appearance, he’d merely rolled the sleeves to his elbows and done the buttons of the shirt up as quickly as possible. He was fairly certain he’d managed to skip doing up the top three. 

“What’s going on, Harry.” Merlin questioned, but to his credit was already in the process of bringing up the requested records. Harry’s eyes flicked through the data on Merlin’s screens, growling lowly in his chest when he found what he was looking for. 

“It’s noted here that a full examination wasn’t completed,” He said, jabbing a finger at a particular line on the screen. “why not?” Merlin looked equal parts deeply confused, and like Harry had lost his mind.

“The boy refused to remove his pants.” He explained. “He seemed alright with the trousers coming off, but refused to go full buff; he said they could examine what was necessary just as well with them on. Given the suspicions you’d already voiced at the time about his aversion to being touched, nobody in medical wanted to rock that particular boat, so they agreed. Why, Harry?” Harry blew out an aggravated sigh, digging his fingers into curled hair that he hadn’t taken the time to smooth. 

_Do I tell him, or would that be somehow violating Eggsy’s trust?_ It wasn’t an easy decision, and he feared that all of the progress in his friendship with the young man would be broken if he made the wrong choice. _It’s Merlin. You can trust Merlin to keep it a secret._

“You recall the conversation we had yesterday, in regards to the evening Eggsy apparently went missing as a child.” Merlin nodded his head, face growing serious as Harry began to pace around the room, hands clasped tightly behind his back. “I’ve… noticed a scar that he has, which I am beginning to suspect came from the same event.” He could see Merlin’s eyes flicker back to the screen, taking in Eggsy’s rather lengthy list of identifying marks with a raised brow. 

“He’s got plenty of scars, Harry. What makes this one so notable?” He took a deep breath, hoping that he was making the right decision. 

“For starters, it’s not included on your list.” He muttered, making Merlin frown. 

“We make sure that medical notes down _every_ possibly identifying mark, Harry. You know this.” 

“Medical can’t note them down if they never _see_ them, now can they.” It was not a question, not really. 

“Explain.” Merlin demanded, while leaning back further in his chair. 

“He has a burn scar very low on his abdomen, rather near the groin, just here.” He explained, pointing to the spot on his own body. “It would have been covered by his pants when he was getting examined.” He rolled his eyes when Merlin’s brows climbed up his forehead.

“I didn’t know you actually had it in you, Harry.” The Quartermaster said, sounding equal parts impressed and pained.

“Oh do shut up.”

“I’m just saying, one can only _imagine_ how you managed to see such a place so clearly…”

“Merlin!” It was practically a snarl, and cut the other man’s teasing off sharply. Harry knew he should apologize for his tone, but worry about Eggsy was quickly taking over everything going on in his mind. “I’m not _fucking_ the boy, so pay attention for fifteen seconds!” 

“Sorry, Harry.” He sounded genuinely contrite, and Harry blew out a breath in an effort to get himself under control. “What’s so important about this burn, then?”

“It’s in the shape of letters – someone’s _initials_ , I assume. I think… I think someone _branded_ him.” He could feel the protective and possessive anger rising within him at the thought all over again. Merlin’s face similarly clouded over in fury, but he was clearly having a much easier time of keeping control of it.

“And what leads you to believe that it coincides with the incident that Michelle told you about?” 

“It was an old scar – no hint of red or even pink to it at all, so it had clearly been quite some time since it was done. I wouldn’t know for sure that it actually _is_ from that night unless I speak to either Eggsy himself or Michelle, but… I don’t believe in coincidences, Merlin. And I know that you don’t either.” The other man nodded his head in agreement, one hand coming up to rub across his chin in thought. 

“And when you noticed it on him, Eggsy didn’t say anything? Didn’t give an explanation?” Harry could feel the very tips of his ears begin to warm, and averted his gaze to the far wall.

“He didn’t know I saw it, as he was asleep at the time.” He muttered reluctantly, but thankfully Merlin was finally taking the situation in all seriousness and left the comment alone. “What do I do?” He asked quietly. “How do I deal with this situation? I feel as though for his own mental health I should be removing Eggsy from the case, but you _know_ what he’s like – he’ll fight me with everything he has to keep at it, because he wants to be _useful_. He won’t give it up quietly. And the truth is, we really _are_ short-staffed to the point that we can’t actually afford to remove him; we can’t have Lancelot tackling this by herself, it needs at least two agents.” Harry could feel a sort of _hopelessness_ cloaking him, the weight of being Arthur and responsibility for his agents fully settling onto his shoulders for the first time. 

“We need to talk to the boy, Harry. You’re right about his stubbornness, so any decision that’s made is gonna have to include his input.” 

“I was afraid you’d say that.” He sighed.

“Say what?” The shock of Eggsy’s voice coming from behind him would have made Harry startle, had he not been trained against doing just that. He turned to see Eggsy in a long-sleeved tee and a comfortable looking pair of trackies, complete with winged trainers on his feet and a Kingsman tablet in his hand that he seemed to be avidly reading from. There was the softest _tap tap tap_ of JB’s nails on the hard floor as he came waddling in the door behind him, only to break into a full hopping run at Merlin’s chair once the pup had spotted him. The weight of the pug hitting his knees caused Merlin’s coffee to slosh out of his mug, dribbling down the front of his jumper.

“Oi! Watch it, JB! Bad dog!” He growled, only to be followed by a crashing sound. Harry turned back to Eggsy, seeing that the boy’s face had turned rather pale and the tablet had for some reason made it’s way to the floor. _Thank goodness Kingsman tech is heartier than the rest._ Harry detected the faintest tremor to Eggsy’s hands as he bent to pick the tablet back up, so quick that he might have thought that he’d imagined it. In the blink of an eye, his pale face was flushing and turning into an angry scowl.

“Don’ call him that.” The young man gritted out between clenched teeth, and Harry blinked in surprise. “He ain’t done nothin’ wrong, he just wanted ta say hello to ya! Ain’t no reason to tell him he’s bad fer somethin’ like that!” Even Merlin seemed a bit startled at the vehemence in Eggsy’s voice. “Ain’t never a reason to tell someone they’s a _bad dog_!” Harry could feel his face pulling into a confused frown.

“…‘someone’?” He questioned, finding it to be a rather odd word choice. Eggsy seemed to pull up short, the angry flush to his face disappearing as he went pale as death once again. 

“Some _thing_ ,” He returned, though Harry noticed his hands were clenched rather hard around the tablet. “I said some _thing_.” 

“Apologies, Eggsy.” Merlin cut in, a bit warily. “I suppose that was a bit unfair of me.” He reached down to give the obliviously wiggling dog a scratch behind the ears, but Harry noticed that he was watching Eggsy carefully from the corner of his eye. “Apologies to you as well, JB.” 

“…why’s my medical records on the screen?” Eggsy asked, seemingly having only just noticed. Harry tried to steel himself for the conversation to come.

“I’ll just go find myself a new jumper, shall I?” Merlin said, whilst all but running from the room _like a coward_. 

Harry drew in a deep breath, as the door slammed shut.

* * *

“Perhaps we should sit down.” Harry said, gesturing to the small settee on the far side of the room. Eggsy followed him over, a bad feeling sinking into his gut. _What the fuck would they be lookin’ at me medical records for?_ He settled on the cushion, turning himself sideways so that he could be facing Harry as the older man did the same. JB made a couple of hops, trying to reach, before Harry seemed to give in and pulled the wheezy pug up onto the cushions with them. On a normal day, Eggsy would have gotten a laugh over the startled look on Harry’s face when JB curled up into a ball on the older gent’s lap rather than his own, but as it was he was far too anxious to be amused about anything. 

“What’s goin’ on, Harry?” He asked, and couldn’t really help the suspicious tone to his voice. Harry cleared his throat and looked like he was _really fucking uncomfortable_. 

“To begin with, Eggsy, I want to make clear that I intend this to be a _conversation_ where we discuss our individual points of view, and not an _argument_.”

“Oh, that’s a great way to fuckin’ start, I feel really assured.” His tone lacked any real bite – he just felt very _tired_ all of a sudden. Harry rolled his eyes.

“Just… cooperate, Eggsy. Please.” 

“Fine.” Harry sighed at his short response, and brought a hand up to rub his brow while the other started petting JB in an unconscious way.

“I have been having some concerns about how this case is affecting you, mentally and physically. Concerns serious enough that I have been struggling with whether or not to pull you from the case completely.” Eggsy opened his mouth to make an angry retort, but was brought short. “ _Not_ an argument, remember? You will get an opportunity to say your piece, and in a _calm_ manner, if you would be so kind.” He clenched his jaw, and waved his hand in a little _go on_ motion before crossing his arms tightly across his chest. “I feel that I have ample justification for these concerns.”

“Like what?” He tried to keep any kind of petulant tone out of his voice, but he didn’t think he’d been too successful. 

“Well, what happened just now, for example. I’ve never seen you blow up over such a simple comment before… It seems very unlike you, and I can’t help but feel that it’s stress from this case that’s causing you to have such a short temper.” 

“It ain’t.” He broke in quickly. “That ain’t from bein’ stressed – I’ve _never_ liked them words.”

“What, _bad dog_?” Harry asked in puzzlement, and Eggsy tried to hide his flinch. 

_Don’t be a **bad dog** , boy._

“Yeah. And that’s another thing – you’s better be getting’ rid o’ that _fuckin’_ dog test, now that you’re Arthur, Harry. I mean it.” He could tell that Harry was trying to suppress a sigh.

“The dog test is meant to determine a candidate’s willingness to follow orders unquestioningly – ” Harry began, but Eggsy wasn’t having _none_ of it.

“That’s fuckin’ _bollocks_ and you know it, mate! What’s killin’ some innocent dog got to do with any o’ it?!”

“You’re not _actually_ killing them, Eggsy – ”

“But you don’ _know_ that at the time, do ya?!” Harry went quiet, and Eggsy suddenly realized that his breathing had gone ragged. “Ain’t _no_ good reason to kill a dog, _ever_.” The older man was eyeing him seriously, as if taking things in and trying to make some sort of decision.

“I will admit that I don’t quite understand your vehemence on this topic, but what if we agree to discuss the test at another time? I hadn’t intended this to be the focus of our conversation.” Eggsy sighed, and tried to roll out some of the tension that had built up in his shoulders.

“Fine.” 

“As I was saying, I feel as though you’ve perhaps been more affected by this case than you may believe. You’ve certainly had a shorter temper, as we’ve discussed, but don’t think that I’ve failed to notice that you don’t seem to be sleeping very well, either. Even before last night, I’d picked up on the fact that you seem exhausted, _constantly_. I’m concerned for your health, Eggsy.” He internally cringed a bit in embarrassment when he remembered how Harry had found him the previous night, on the floor of his bath and frightened like a _child_. 

“I told you last night, yeah? ‘s just some bad dreams, bruv.” Harry looked at him sternly. 

“I rather think that it’s not.” 

“What the fuck would _you_ know about it?” He asked dismissively, only to have every muscle in his body freeze at Harry’s response.

“Eggsy, who has the initials _A.J.M._?”


	13. Chapter 13

“…the fuck you on abou’, bruv?” Though Eggsy’s voice and expression were nothing but calm, Harry knew the boy well enough to see through the façade – his face was exceedingly pale, and tension was holding every line of his body rigid. 

“You know very well, Eggsy. I’d like an answer, if you please.” He sighed, only to see Eggsy’s face drop from false confusion into a chillingly stony look. 

“Tha’s none o’ your fuckin’ business, Harry.” He could feel the close relationship the two of them had built steadily unravelling, but there was no hope for it – Harry would do _anything_ to keep Eggsy sane and safe, even if it meant sabotaging their friendship in such a way. 

“Eggsy. _Please_ don’t make me pull rank here.” It was difficult to keep the pleading tone from his voice. “I would much prefer we discuss this as friends, but I _will_ order you as your superior if I must.” There was not a single twitch or tell in the young man’s face as he stared at Harry in silence. “ _Eggsy_.”

“It ain’t important, Harry.” He said around a clenched jaw, and the older man couldn’t help but sigh again. “ _Leave it_.”

“I can’t.” 

“Why the fuck _not_?!” Eggsy’s agitation was palpable, his tightly crossed arms suddenly flinging out demonstratively and almost hitting Harry in the nose. JB gave a small whine from his lap over the loud noise of the boy’s shouting.

“Because I _care about you_!” He could feel his own temper fraying from his worry and frustration, his tone rising to the same shout as Eggsy’s had been. The younger man jumped to his feet with a low growl, turning as if to storm from the room. _Like **hell** are we done here_. Harry quickly deposited JB onto the now empty cushion, springing to his feet as well. His longer stride caught up to Eggsy quickly, and his firm grip on the smaller man’s upper arm brought him to an abrupt halt as Harry hissed out “ _Eggsy!_ ”

“Don’ fuckin’ _touch me_!” Eggsy’s words, accompanied by the firm _yank_ to remove his arm from Harry’s grip, were like a bucket of ice being dumped over his head – he’d reached out to grab without thinking, without considering anything of it at _all_. Every little bit of Harry’s frustrated anger fled in that singular moment, leaving him feeling only devastated and cold. _I’ve handled this all wrong… How could I have been so stupid?_ He gripped his hands together behind his back, a physical show of his willingness to follow the boy’s request, and took several steps backwards to give some space. Eggsy let out a harsh breath, reaching up to run his hands over his short hair as Harry dropped his gaze to the floor. _I’ve ruined **everything** , haven’t I._

He heard the soft squeak of the boy’s trainers on the tiled floor, coming closer. Harry held himself so rigidly still that he might have been stone, worried that even the slightest movement would cause Eggsy some kind of upset or harm. He startled slightly at the light whisper of fingers to the edge of his jaw, running down to rest just below his chin as he closed his eyes in shame. 

“ _Jesus_ , Harry…” The sigh was so quiet that he hardly heard it, even at such a close distance. The fingers below his chin began to press upwards, just the slightest, and he allowed Eggsy to tilt his face back up from its angle at the floor. He kept his eyes closed, afraid of what expression the young man would be wearing. His other senses seemed eager to make up for the loss – he could feel the barest increase in temperature as Eggsy’s body came closer; he could smell nothing but the _apple nutmeg vanilla_ scent that seemed to encompass the boy when not doused in colognes for a mission; he could hear the subtle rustle of cloth as he moved, the touch on Harry’s chin falling away momentarily before a firm chest pressed against his own and the weight of arms came about his neck. Harry kept his hands clasped firmly at his back, petrified of making a wrong move. 

“Hug me back, you fuckin’ prick.” Eggsy’s voice held a thin note of humour from where his face was pressed into Harry’s neck, though he could still hear the upset and frustration buried underneath it. He brought his hands to rest lightly on the smaller man’s ribcage, absently amused in the back of his mind to note that Eggsy was pressed up on his toes in order to reach his arms over Harry’s shoulders. “ _Tighter_ , Harry.” He demanded, and what else could he do but obey? He slid his arms fully around Eggsy’s torso, bringing him in even tighter to his own body and relishing the feeling while he was permitted to have it. 

“I’m sorry.” He murmured, tilting his head to press his nose into Eggsy’s shoulder. “I would never willingly harm you Eggsy, I swear it.” The boy’s grip around his neck tightened briefly in a comforting squeeze. 

“I know, Harry. I’m always safe with you.” They remained wrapped around each other in silence for quite some time before Eggsy spoke again. “I don’ like talkin’ about it.” He said quietly, pressing himself in closer to Harry’s body. He could feel small tremors begin in the smaller man’s thighs as the strain of being on his toes for so long began to make itself known. Since Eggsy seemed to have no inclination to move, Harry began shuffling them closer to the settee in some kind of demented waltz, nudging JB with a knee until he hopped off the settee and they could collapse safely. 

Harry was _absolutely_ ignoring the fact that this now meant the young man was practically _lying on top of him_. 

“From a professional standpoint,” Harry began tentatively, hoping to avoid a return to their earlier shouting. “I must consider the fact that your lack of rest and the mental strain of your prior experiences may affect your ability to safely perform your job. I owe it not only to you, but to Lancelot and the rest of Kingsman, in my position as Arthur.”

“And from a personal one?” Eggsy asked, his voice muffled from where he was still hiding his face beneath Harry’s jaw. 

“I want you to be _happy_. I want to keep you from anything that would upset you or do you harm, though I know very well that you can handle such things just fine on your own. I want to know who the fuck _branded you_ so that I can kill them in incredibly painful and creative ways.” He felt Eggsy go still, and waited. 

“Could kill ‘em meself.” He hedged.

“You could.” Harry agreed easily. Eggsy’s capabilities were on par with his own, of this he was well aware. “And should you ever wish to do so, I would happily stand back and allow it. But you are not the type to revel in violence, my dear – I think we both know that.” The boy was too soft, too kind and _good_. He was not the dark monster deep down that Harry knew himself to be.

“You don’ enjoy it either,” Eggsy argued. “we’s already talked abou’ that.” He couldn’t stop himself from rubbing a thumb over the shoulder he was gripping in absent comfort as he thought about how to respond. 

“I don’t enjoy harming those who don’t truly deserve it, you are correct in that. But in such a circumstance as this? I assure you, I would take _great pleasure_ in it.” Eggsy hummed thoughtfully at that. 

“I don’ know who they are.” He said finally, and Harry sighed. 

“Eggsy – ”

“No, I’m _serious_ , bruv. I don’ know who they are, I don’ know what the initials stand for. I got snatched off the fuckin’ street one night, knocked out, and woke up in a room. I was _eleven fuckin’ years old_ and all I wanted ta do was forget about the whole fuckin’ thing – I weren’t spendin’ no time tryin’ to sort out who the fuck they was.” Harry tried to tamp down the fury rising within him at the thought of a young Eggsy kidnapped, alone, and _frightened_. 

“You didn’t tell your mother.” It wasn’t a question, as Michelle had already told him as much, but Eggsy answered it anyway.

“Nah. She had enough on her plate with Dean… I weren’t about to add more on ta that. I could handle meself.” The fact that Eggsy, as a mere _child_ , had felt he couldn’t talk to his own mother about _being abducted_ was quite possibly one of the most heartbreaking things Harry had ever heard. 

He mentally moved ‘murder Dean Baker’ up on his list of things to do.

* * *

Eggsy knew he was acting childish, what with hiding himself in Harry’s neck and refusing to come out, but he didn’t think he’d be able to talk about it at _all_ if he had to look the other man in the eye. 

“Will you tell me what happened?” Harry asked quietly, and Eggsy debated with himself. He’d never spoken of that night, _ever_ … He’d hardly even allowed himself to _think_ about it.

“I think you can figure out the gist o’ it, yeah?” Harry let out a harsh breath at his words, and Eggsy felt just a little bit warmer at the man’s obvious upset on his behalf. “That was… that was the first time. Didn’ really matter what Dean decided ta do with me after that, really. Was already ruined.” He was surprised to feel the arms around him squeeze tight suddenly, and when Harry spoke it sounded like it was through clenched teeth.

“You are not _ruined_.” The older man practically growled, and Eggsy could only blink in confusion. “What was forced upon you in _no way_ detracts from your value as person, Eggsy – the strength and fortitude that you showed at such a young age only speaks to your resiliency. You bore trials as a child with grace that would bring many grown men weeping to their _knees_. My dear, please believe me when I say that you _are not ruined_.” His throat felt suddenly tight with emotion, and he swallowed hard.

“Yeah, alright.” He choked out, digging his fingers into Harry’s shoulders. Eggsy allowed himself a few calming breaths, before speaking again. “I _can_ handle it, you know.”

“You can handle a great many things,” Harry assured immediatley. “to which are we referring at the moment?” He couldn’t help the dry chuckle that statement caused to escape him. 

“The mission. I can handle it, bruv – I won’ get distracted or all twisted about, I _swear_ it.” Eggsy dropped his hands to the cushions below them, leveraging himself up to look Harry in the face properly. “Swear down, Harry. I won’ disappoint you.” The older man seemed to be studying his expression, before giving a resigned sigh. Knowing the look of Harry admitting defeat when he saw it, Eggsy started grinning, just as the doors to the room opened. 

“Oh!” Roxy exclaimed, fumbling the Kingsman tablet in her hands for a moment before straightening into professional calm. “Am I interrupting something?” Eggsy could hear the dry note of amusement buried in her tone, and only just then realized what kind of picture he and Harry were making – half reclined on the settee, Harry on his back with Eggsy’s arms caging him in, hips pressed together and legs entwined in the cramped space. It was all made worse by the fact that Eggsy had only _just_ noticed that Harry was in shirtsleeves, his top buttons undone and showing a bit of chest, and his hair delightfully mussed. _Oh holy fuckin’ god, it looks like I was snoggin’ him!_

“Er…” He started, having _absolutely_ no idea what he was even gonna say to explain _that_. 

“Of course not, Lancelot.” Harry cut in smoothly, sitting up properly when Eggsy sprung away from him with his cheeks heating up in embarrassment. He looked completely calm and unruffled, the absolute _wanker_. “Do come in.” 

“I’ve been reviewing the files from Merlin, Sir.” She stated in a tone the epitome of dry professionalism, even as she shoved Eggsy to one side in order to sit herself between him and Harry. Eggsy shoved her back gently, grinning when she stuck her tongue out at him before turning back to the older man. “I’ve come across one of our suspects that may be our target.” She tilted the tablet so that all three of them could view the screen, displaying the gathered information for one _Jason Michaelson_. 

“No picture?” Eggsy asked absently, scanning the lines of text that painted the typical image of a techonological genius that had too much fucking time and money on his hands. _Would’ve been best pals with someone like Valentine, you’d think. Wonder why he didn’ go along with the V-Day plan?_ Roxy shook her head regretfully.

“As Merlin said before, because these people are well comfortable with computers and technology, they’ve been able to cover some of their tracks exceptionally. Give it time, however – Merlin’s got the skill to ferret them out.” The three of them shared a knowing look; Merlin had never taken kindly to people trying to keep him from what he wanted. Their amusement was cut short when the screen of the tablet changed without prompting, the information fading away and becoming merely a black screen – that is, until words began to appear. 

_All the King’s horses, and all the Kingsmen…_

The words were followed by the image of the Kingsman ‘K’ insignia, but not the relatively plain one that was usually used to adorn everything – rather it looked like it had been cropped out of some kind of photograph, the decorative twisted ropes that made up the insignia identifying it as one of their medals. Eggsy raised a hand to grasp at his own from where it hung beneath his shirt, a question occurring to him. 

“How many of these things have gone out, Harry?” He asked, only for the older man to let out a huffing breath. 

“Far too many. He could have gotten that image from anywhere, unfortunately.” The screen faded to black again and they waited, but that seemed to be all that there was to the message. 

“Fuck _me_.” There was nothing else to say, really.

* * *

Harry dug his fingers into his eyes briefly, trying to stave off the headache that had been building for the last few hours since they received the second message from their target. The little bastard was getting cocky, and Harry didn’t like it _in the slightest_. There was an anticipatory tightening of his muscles, the old familiar itch to _hunt_ and _destroy_ burning within him – the need to find the threat and eliminate it with extreme prejudice. _That_ is what Harry was accustomed to, the predatory skin that he’d spent more than half his life living in; the ability to _wait_ and _delegate_ and sit around in an office being _absolutely fucking useless_ was not one that he felt he possessed. 

Sighing to himself, he decided that dwelling on it was going to get him nowhere; Merlin had his whole department looking into the second breach of their systems, pouring over every detail as though driven on by the devil himself. There was nothing for it until they had more information, ergo why he was midway through preparing himself for bed. Twisting his back to give his spine a pleasant crack, he slipped his pyjama tee over his head and started dragging back his comforter. Settling down on the mattress stirred the air currents, and he suddenly caught the faint scent of _apple nutmeg vanilla_ that wafted up from the opposite side of his bed, the thought of Eggsy sleeping there beside him the night previous suddenly hitting him low in his gut. He’d been too furious and worried sick at the time to have put much thought into it, but now… well.

Unbidden, the memory of that morning came back to him – Eggsy’s strong arms holding himself steady above Harry, their hips pressed tightly together in a way that would have been _much_ more pleasant if either of them had even _realized it_. Almost against his will, Harry found himself wondering what it would be like to have the smaller man pressed _beneath_ him, what kind of things would bring that gorgeous smile to his face – what did he enjoy? What would make him happy? Almost immediately, Harry felt immeasurably guilty for the thoughts. Eggsy had ‘experience’, that was certain, but he hazarded a guess that _enjoyment_ had not usually been a part of it. _You have **no** right to be thinking of him like that_. He resolutely turned onto his side, facing his back to the side of the bed that inexplicably felt too empty, and was just about to nod off when a bright light from his night table caught his attention. Frowning to himself, Harry picked up the tablet that was sitting there, the entire screen a dark grey in colour rather than the black of being turned off. As he watched, words began to appear on the screen just as they had that morning.

_How did the old King train his child spies? Did he give them good treats?_

Harry blinked in confusion, uncomprehending of what the question could _possibly_ be in reference to. The words cleared from the screen, only to be replaced with more.

_I have such a difficult time training children. Perhaps I can learn._

His confusion only deepend, though given that he knew their target’s victims were all _children_ , the statement seemed that much more ominous. Once again the words disappeared, and instead an image of Eggsy took up the screen. It had clearly been taken from Valentine’s security cameras, as it showed the boy in his Kingsman suit and glasses, standing over the man’s corpse with a bruised face and split lip. Harry’s heart gave a lurch at the deadened look on the young man’s usually sweet face – this was an Eggsy with nothing left within him, the ghost that the others had lived around while Harry’d been ‘dead’. _This_ Eggsy was hard and brutal, stone cold and unfeeling. Harry didn’t enjoy the image. Blood red text began to appear just below the boy’s face, and Harry felt everything inside himself freeze.

_All the King's horses, and all the Kingsmen…_  
_Couldn’t put ‘Eggsy’ together again._


	14. Chapter 14

For the second night in a row, Harry found himself racing out the door towards Eggsy’s bedroom; his heart was beating a panicked tattoo in his chest, a cold sweat breaking over his skin from his fear. The ominous words from the screen repeated through his mind as he ran.

_Couldn’t put ‘Eggsy’ together again. Couldn’t put ‘Eggsy’ together again. Couldn’t put ‘Eggsy’ together again._

He crashed through the boy’s bedroom door with his shoulder, skidding to an abrupt halt to take the room in – the sheets were in their usual chaotic mess, but there was no body ensconced beneath them; there was a glass of water on the night table that had been upended, its former contents pooled across the top and dripping to the floor; Eggsy’s Kingsman glasses were on the floor in the far corner of the room, as though having been flung there unceremoniously. The picture beginning to form in Harry’s mind as to how the room may have ended up looking so was _intolerable_. 

_Breathe, old man._

He raced over to the ensuite bath, a fleeting hope alive in his chest that he would find the boy much the same way that he had the previous night – only for that hope to die horrendously upon finding the bath just as empty as the bedroom. Cursing under his breath, Harry ran back out of the room and headed for the kitchens, praying that Eggsy would be there with a cup of tea and a ready laugh at Harry and his paranoia. It was not to be. The kitchens were as much a ghost town as the rest of the upper level of the mansion, and Harry dug shaking hands into his hair at the realization. His breaths came rapidly, absolute panic clawing at his throat.

_Couldn’t put ‘Eggsy’ together again._

He _had_ to find him – the alternative was simply unacceptable. Urging himself to stop and fucking _think_ , Harry battled against the fear trying to clog his mind. _The gardens_. Eggsy was fond of the mansion's gardens, and often spent time there with his sister; it was the only other place he would have gone, and Harry’s last chance – if the boy wasn’t out in the gardens, then it was very likely he wasn’t on the grounds anymore _at all_. His feet carried him swiftly to the doors, crashing through them to the walk outside. He took no note of the coldness of the stones and grass under his bare feet, the slight chill to the air upon his skin. There was nothing in his mind but an endless litany of _Eggsy, Eggsy, Eggsy_. The moon was high overhead and lit the area well enough, a blessing for the fact that Harry hadn’t taken the time to find some sort of light source. As he ran through the entrance to the gardens, he found himself jerking to an abrupt halt while he gasped for breath. 

“Eggsy!” The lone figure standing in the clearing turned sharply at his call, surprise washing over his beloved face as he took in the sight of Harry. The relief of finding him safe and whole was almost enough to bring the older man to his knees.

“Harry?” There was concern in Eggsy’s voice as he quickly came closer, a startled squeak passing his lips as Harry gathered him in tightly to his body with violently shaking hands. “Harry, wha’s the matter? You alright, love?” He pressed his face into the boy’s neck, taking in the scent of him and feeling his night-chilled skin against his cheek. Harry ran rough hands over his bare back, tracing the curvature of muscle and bone to assure himself of Eggsy’s safety. _Thank god_. “Harry, you’re scarin’ me… _Please_ , what’s happened?” 

“Another message.” He muttered, not having the will to move his face. He felt Eggsy go still at his words, the boy’s hands fisting tightly in Harry’s shirt. “Threatening _you_.” A tremor traced over the smaller figure in his arms, and Harry tightened his grip. 

“And knowin’ you, you ran off to my room and found it a mess, yeah?” 

“Quite.” Eggsy blew out a breath, rising up onto his toes to give Harry’s bent form some respite as he dug his own chin into the older man’s shoulder. 

“Was just a bad dream,” The boy assured. “I woke up knockin’ over my water glass, is all.”

“And your glasses? I found them clear across your room.” At this, Eggsy gave a sheepish chuckle.

“Didn’ want the water to ruin ‘em, so I might’ve just sorta _thrown_ ‘em outta the way…” Harry huffed a laugh at this, finally raising his head from where it was buried and feeling Eggsy pull back as well. He kept his hands firm upon the boy’s back, their chests remaining pressed together and their shared breath warming their faces in the night’s chill. “Don’ think I’ve ever seen you look so scared, Harry. Not even when you were lookin’ down the barrel of Valentine’s fuckin’ gun.” He was frowning in equal parts concern and curiosity, and Harry could do nothing but marvel over the fact that Eggsy could be so blissfully unaware of his own importance. 

“I have no fear of my own death, my dear, but I find the thought of yours to be… unacceptable.” He explained, and watched as something warm and deep crept into the boy’s expression. 

“Somethin’ we agree on, then.” Eggsy’s voice was low and husky, and Harry’s breath caught sharply. “I ain’t _ever_ watchin’ you die again, Harry. I’ll do any fuckin’ thing I have to, to make sure it don’ happen.” His head tilted back as he lowered himself off his toes and onto flat feet once again, never once moving his eyes from Harry’s own. A shiver worked its way over Eggsy’s skin, and Harry cursed himself for keeping the young man outside in the chill whilst only half-dressed. Skimming a hand lightly down his arm, Harry twined their fingers together before taking a step back. 

“We need to see Merlin.” He said reluctantly, not wanting to break the moment but knowing that there were more important things that needed to be done. Eggsy nodded in acquiescence, turning with Harry to head back inside the mansion, their hands gripping each other tightly.

* * *

“What in the bloody fucking _hell_ is he talking about?!” Merlin’s angry growl would have been amusing under different circumstances, but Eggsy was just too fucking tired to drum up some kind of emotion. They’d been at it for what felt like _lifetimes_ , and were no closer to understanding what their target’s most recent message meant. _Well, the **first** part of it. The end bit is pretty self-fuckin’-explanatory._

“Harry, _please_ tell me Kingsman don’ make a habit of usin’ kids.” He murmured tiredly, while Merlin continued to rage in the background.

“Of _course_ not,” Harry assured, looking equally confused. “I honestly haven’t the foggiest what he could possibly mean by ‘child spies’.” Roxy let out a large yawn, stretching with the motion.

“Clearly there’s something here that we’re missing.” She said, idly reading through reports on the tablet in her hand. “Let’s take a step back and look at what we _know_ – he was actively kidnapping children around the United Kingdom fourteen years ago, before the disappearances abruptly ended. What can we glean from this detail?” 

“That somethin’ spooked him good.” Eggsy cut in, and Roxy nodded in agreement. “That kind o’ behaviour ain’t the type o’ thing to just be _controlled_ , yeah? So more likely he moved on ta some other place.” 

“I agree,” She said. “I think it highly likely that _something_ happened to scare the target out of the country – Harry, you said that you had been getting close in your investigation before he disappeared; perhaps it was that?” Eggsy thought it was as good a guess as any, but Harry seemed reluctant to agree. 

“I’m not altogether certain about that, Lancelot. I _had_ been getting close, but given the large ego that our target has been displaying, I’ve begun to have my doubts that my investigation would have been enough to frighten him on its own, back then.” 

“So what are you sayin’?” Eggsy asked, frowning in confusion as Harry let out a weary sigh. 

“The reality is, in my initial investigation I still had no name, no photographs, no identifying information whatsoever on our target. We knew about Riggs, but ultimately he was just a lackey. I feel as though the only thing that would have frightened the target sufficiently would be – ”

“ – If he thought he was on the verge of being identified.” Roxy finished for him. Harry raised a hand in a _There you have it_ sort of motion, sighing tiredly once again. 

“So if not _you_ ,” Eggsy mused. “then he was worried about someone else. Someone able ta say who he were or what he looked like, yeah?” Roxy jerked up straighter in her seat, eyes widening as though a thought had just occurred to her. 

“Harry…” She gasped. “What about one of the children?!”

“Beg pardon, Lancelot?” Merlin cut in, obviously having given up on cursing to himself to listen in on the conversation. 

“The kidnapped children!” She continued excitedly. “What if one of them somehow got away? They’d be able to tell authorities where to find him, what he looked like, possibly a name… Surely one of his victims escaping would be enough to put the fear of god into the bastard, especially if he was feeling pressure from Harry’s investigation at the same time!” Harry seemed to be considering it, but Merlin’s features scrunched into a frown.

“But if a child _did_ manage to escape, why did nothing ever come of it?” He asked in confusion. “There were never any reports of an abducted child from this case making it out, and certainly the Yard was never given information that would have led to an arrest. Why would a child escape such a man, only to never breathe a word about it?” 

_Eggsy, where the hell have ya been?! Yer covered in **blood** , what happened to ya?!_  
 _It’s nothin’, mum._   
_Eggsy!_  
 _Leave it! I said it’s nothin’!_

“When did he disappear?” Eggsy asked, burying shaking hands beneath his thighs. _No, no it can’t be_. “Fourteen years ago, when was it?” Merlin seemed to think on it for a moment, before answering.

“In October of that year, I believe. He was certainly gone before November came.” 

_Dean, please! It’s too dark for him to be out on his own! And you know how rowdy them older boys get this close before Hallowe’en._   
_He’s goin’ and that’s fuckin’ **final** , Michelle!_

“You’re absolutely fuckin’ certain, mate?” 

“Yes, Eggsy. Why?” Merlin was eyeing him up curiously, but Eggsy found that he couldn’t raise his gaze from the floor.

“I think Rox’s right.” He said slowly, fighting back the nausea that suddenly came upon him. “I think he got scared ‘cos one of ‘em got away.”

“Eggsy?” Harry’s voice sounded concerned, but he refused to look up at the older man’s face. 

“Would’ve been bad enough, right? One of ‘em getting’ loose. But prob’ly much worse if a gent started pokin’ his nose around what had the same symbol on him as the kid that escaped.”

“Eggsy, what are you saying, lad?” Merlin asked, but when he finally raised his head he had eyes only for Harry – Harry, whose expression was one of dawning horror. The older man’s gaze dropped to Eggsy’s bare chest, where the Kingsman medal nestled near his heart. 

“ _Fucking Christ_ …” Harry whispered, falling to his knees in front of Eggsy’s place on the settee, and reaching out with a shaking hand to pick up the medal.

“I had it on, Harry… I had it on that night.” He said, a tremor fighting its way into his voice as silence descended upon the room. “I remember he tried ta take it off of me, but I wouldn’ let him. You’d told me ta keep it safe, so I kicked up a fuss. Promised him I’d be _good_ if he let me keep it.” He swallowed thickly, hating himself for making Harry look so _pained_. “He would’ve recognized it, seein’ the same symbol on _you_.”

“…‘child spies’,” Harry murmured. “when he saw the Kingsman insignia on me as well, he must have assumed we’d somehow set him up to take you, as a way to gain information on him.” 

“But that’s mad!” Roxy exclaimed, and Eggsy couldn’t help the bitter chuckle he let out.

“Rox, love… We’re talkin’ about a man that kidnaps, abuses, and _kills_ children. Ain’t like he’s workin’ with a full fuckin’ deck to begin with.” 

“Kills?” Harry asked, very carefully, and Eggsy sobered once again.

“He was goin’ ta kill me, Harry. Told me all about it, in detail, while he was settin’ up.” Harry’s hands dropped down to Eggsy’s thighs, gripping tightly. “I didn’… I didn’ know that there’d been others, I _swear_ it. I’d known Diana’d gone missin’ a few weeks before, but kids was _always_ goin’ missin’ off the Estate – I didn’ _know_ that it’d been the same, Harry! I swear to fuckin’ god, I’d’ve said summat if I’d _known_!” His breath began to hitch in his upset, and Harry began to rub his legs soothingly. Roxy looked like she was on the verge of tears, and Merlin’s arms were tightly crossed, one hand raised to grip the bridge of his nose in between his eyes. 

“Shh, just _breathe_ Eggsy. It’s alright.” He murmured, waiting until his breathing had calmed somewhat. “I suppose this answers the question of why he seems so focussed on _you_.” Eggsy shook his head, laying his hands on top of Harry’s and squeezing.

“Nah, Harry. I don’ think that’s it.” 

“What do you mean?” Roxy asked in confusion. “Why else a direct threat to you, if not for that?”

* * *

Harry was also confused; it seemed fairly obvious that the target would have threatened Eggsy due to him being _the one that got away_ , as it were, but the boy seemed set in his thinking. 

“Nah, think about it – he didn’ know my name or nothin’ about me back then. The only thing on me that would’ve been _identifyin’_ in any way was the medal. The night that we went after Riggs at the club – there was no fuckin’ _way_ Riggs recognized me, and he was the one that snatched me up in the first place back then.”

“But then _why_?” Roxy asked. “Why you?” 

“Valentine.” Harry cut in with realization, and Eggsy nodded. “If we were indeed correct in our conjecture that the target was watching Eggsy take down Valentine’s base via his cameras, then he would have recognized Eggsy from _there_ when he took Riggs out at the club.”

“Of _course_ ,” Merlin murmured. “he obviously would have been keeping an eye on Riggs, and so more than likely had seen their interaction. So he sees the same young agent that destroyed Valentine then interfering with his _own_ business, and decides to threaten in retaliation. It may have nothing to do with his abduction as a child at all.” 

“Added in with the fact that Eggsy with his longer hair and Kingsman glasses – as he was for _both_ these events – looks vastly different than he usually does.” Roxy murmured thoughtfully. “I mean, really, you could be two separate people.” 

_That’s right_ , Harry thought suddenly. _Eggsy hadn’t cut his hair until **after** the altercation at the club with Riggs._

“So then at least one thing is clear,” Harry interjected, his voice firm and unyeilding. “if we are right and the target hasn’t drawn a connection between Eggsy and the child that got away, we must do whatever possible to make sure that he _never_ realizes it.” Eggsy opened his mouth to say something, but on this Harry would give _no quarter_. “Having his focus on you is dangerous enough, it would be _infinitely_ worse if he were to realize that you are also the one that escaped him. We _must_ hide this detail, Eggsy. For your protection.” The boy seemed to deflate, his hands briefly squeezing down on Harry’s own once again. 

“Yeah, alright.” He agreed, and Harry felt some of the tightness in his chest loosen. 

It was several hours later when Harry was finally on the verge of sleep, exhaustion pulling at him sharply as he burrowed further into his pillows. The almost-silent sound of his bedroom door easing open jolted his senses back into wakefullness, but he held himself still and waited. Quiet footsteps padded across his carpeted floor, moving past the foot of the bed to the opposite side from where Harry lay. He relaxed as he felt the comforter being slowly pulled back, knowing immediately who it was. 

“Just get in, Eggsy.” There was a quiet huff of laughter, just before the bed dipped under the young man’s weight behind him. A bit of rustling and settling, and then the room was cloaked in silence once again. Harry was almost asleep for the second time when he felt Eggsy shift, the bed dipping a bit more as his body came closer to Harry’s own. He held his breath, managing not to startle when a hesitant hand slid over his stomach and the smaller man’s bulk settled against his back. He laced his own fingers with those clutching him, allowing himself to finally rest to the feeling of warm breath puffing against the back of his neck. 

_Eggsy is here, he’s safe. All is well for the moment._

If Harry had learned anything in his time, it was that you had to treasure such things as they arrived – for their kind of life could only ever be lived _in the moment_.


	15. Chapter 15

“Are you fuckin’ takin’ the piss?!” Merlin’s eyebrows practically climbed his forehead at the outburst, as he stared down at the incredulous blonde in front of him. Raising his gaze from Michelle, he glanced over at Eggsy.

“The likeness between you and your mother boggles the mind, sometimes.” He said dryly, and Eggsy had to suppress a laugh when his mum rolled her eyes dramatically.

“Stop tryin’ ta change the subject.” She demanded, and Merlin sighed as though the entire world and its issues were on his shoulders. _Fuckin’ drama queen, that one._

“I assure you, madam, that it is _perfectly_ safe – ”

“I fuckin’ doubt that, mate.”

“She’s got a point.” Roxy cut in, a wide grin on her face as she did nothing but wind Michelle up further. Eggsy shook his head with a snicker and decided to keep his mouth shut and watch Merlin try to dance his way around the conversation. The Quartermaster glared in Roxy’s direction, only to be met with a serene smile in return.

“There is absolutely no reason why Eggsy shouldna be learning how to pilot, and the truth is that we’re running short on those that are capable right now – ”

“I’ll not have my boy behind the controls of some kind of _flyin’ tin can_ – ”

“There are safety protocols – ”

“ _Over my dead fuckin’ body_ – ”

“Good lord, what in the bloody hell is going on here?!” Harry’s voice brought the squabbling to an abrupt halt, and Eggsy finally lost control of his laughter at the moment when he realized that Merlin and his mum _both_ looked like children getting caught out by the school master. He slumped down onto one of Roxy’s shoulders as he wheezed breathlessly, which caused her to finally lose hold of her composure as well – the two of them giggling in the corner while Harry just glared at Merlin, obviously having decided that the loud argument was entirely _his_ fault, somehow. “An explanation, if you please.” He addressed to the group at large.

“ _He_ wants ta send me boy up – ”

“I was only discussing the possibility – ”

“And I’m _not havin’ it_ – ”

“We need more trained pilots, Harry – ”

“You gots plenty o’ _other_ agents – ”

“ _Enough_!” It was probably the most that Eggsy had heard Harry raise his voice _ever_ , and it was suddenly silent enough to hear a fucking _pin drop_ ; it was taking _all_ of his willpower not to dissolve into another round of giggles. The older gent raised a hand to his forehead, rubbing his brow tiredly. “Eggsy. Do you wish to learn to pilot the aircraft?” 

“More in’erested in that classic DB5 we got in the garage, if I’m bein’ honest, bruv.” He said, biting his lip to cut off further laughter when he noticed his mum’s smug look at his answer.

“Fine. Merlin, train Lancelot in piloting.”

“ _What_?!” Roxy’s half-indignant, half-panicked shriek only set him off to laughing again as Harry turned to head towards the kitchens. 

“I’m not awake enough for this shit.” He heard the older man mutter, rubbing a hand across his brow once again. Deciding to leg it before Roxy got to the point of maiming someone, he set out after Harry at a quick jog. 

“Might want to hire yerself a food taster.” He mused as he caught up, gaining a confused frown from his walking partner at the apparent randomness of the comment. He grinned in delight before finishing with, “…‘cos Rox is prob’ly gonna poison yer supper tonight.” Harry huffed a quiet laugh.

“Let’s make it through some breakfast first, shall we?” He responded as they came to the kitchens, pressing Eggsy through the doorway with a hand to the small of his back. 

“ _Yes_ , Harry! Fuckin’ _starvin’_ , I am.” 

“It’s hardly a wonder you’re always so hungry in the mornings, given how much energy you expel through the night.” Harry murmured distractedly as he searched the cupboards for his preferred brand of tea, and Eggsy could feel his brows raise over how the comment _could_ be interpreted – it was maybe a good thing that there weren’t any other agents hanging about the kitchens just then. 

It was the closest they’d come so far to acknowledging the fact that Eggsy had snuck into Harry’s room – and his _bed_ – every night for the past few weeks, ever since their target had threatened Eggsy directly. That first night he’d gone in because he’d still been a bit shaken after coming to the realization that the man who’d… _hurt_ him was most likely the same one that Harry’d been chasing all those years ago. He’d gone to his own room that night, but had felt this overwhelming _need_ to be around someone else – to hear them breathe, feel the heat of their body, and know that he wasn’t _alone_. He could have taken off for his mum’s room, sure… But he’d found himself gravitating to Harry instead. _Like I always seem to_. 

After that first night, he’d just somehow kept going back. Harry had never once turned him away, or asked him _why_ , or acknowledged it really in any way – it was just a thing that happened in the dark of the night, and that was the end of that. Eggsy found himself feeling a bit bad for it, if he was being honest – he knew that Harry was _fond_ of him, yeah. But surely it was gonna start being a bother for the older gent to have him there every night, tossing and turning and just causing a fuss because he could never spend a night laying still to save his life. A part of him was puzzled as to why Harry hadn’t asked him – politely, like a gentleman – to perhaps go back to his own bed already. It wasn’t like he could _possibly_ be getting anything out of it. 

“Yeah… sorta got a problem with layin’ still… sorry.” He finally responded, unsure if it was actually alright to be talking about it in the light of day. _Technically **he** brought it up first, so…_

“Hmm? Oh, it’s no bother, my dear.” Harry replied carelessly, giving a satisfied little _aha!_ as he finally found the tea tin that he’d been searching for. “Toast and eggs, or porridge?”

“Eggs, o’ course.”

* * *

Harry was slowly going mad. Absolute fucking _bonkers_. 

It was like the best kind of heaven, but also the worst kind of hell – to have Eggsy in his bed _every_ night, to feel him pressed against his back (in the rare moments that the young man wasn’t tossing himself about the area in a fitful sleep)… It was so much _more_ than Harry had ever thought he’d be permitted to have with him. He should be satisfied with what he’s been given. He shouldn’t tempt fate by getting _greedy_ of all things.

And yet.

And yet, he _was_ getting greedy. He could no more stop himself from laying beside such a beautiful creature and wishing fervently that he could _touch_ and _taste_ and bloody fucking _worship_ than he could stop the earth from turning about its axis – it didn’t help that the boy was obviously prone to sleeping only _half-dressed_ , for Christ sakes. He was a man of iron will, but even iron could bend if _heated enough_. And to have Eggsy _apologize_ for his tossing and turning of all things; Harry could hardly tell him that he didn’t mind the movement at all, as it only inspired within him vivid fantasies of all the ways that he could _pin the smaller man down_ in order to halt his squirming.

Perhaps he should add some stiff brandy to his morning cup of tea. 

It took almost no time at all to prepare breakfast for the two of them, and as Eggsy’s knee lightly bumped his own underneath the table, Harry came to the realization that it was all frighteningly _domestic_. Almost against his will, he found his mind thinking back to the morning after the train test – Eggsy shuffling into his dining room in an adorably sleepy haze, blinking in disbelief when he finally spotted the full settings on the table; the effusive compliments from the boy over his cooking skills, which at the time had made Harry flush internally with pleasure. That had been the first time that he had envisioned the young man perhaps _permanently_ in his home, the two of them sharing breakfasts before taking a cab to the shop – the thought had startled him terribly at the time, seeming to have come from _nowhere_. 

Evidently his subconscious was much wiser to his developing feelings than he’d really anticipated. 

Harry wasn’t certain what it was that drew Eggsy to his room every night; did he provide some sort of reassurance for the boy? The idea that perhaps Eggsy only saw him as some kind of… _father figure_ was enough to put Harry off his toast. There were moments where he could convince himself that Eggsy simply _must_ have the same sort of feelings as he did, but in the next minute he would wonder if he was merely misinterpreting simple fondness and respect as being _romantic_. 

It was absolutely _maddening_. 

And then there were the smaller things; such as the night that Harry had first gone chasing after Eggsy, nearly wilting in relief upon finding him safe and sound in the gardens. He’d been too caught up in his panic at the time, but when given some reflection he’d realized that Eggsy had called him ‘love’ when asking him if he was alright. _But did he **really**?_ Harry’s traitorous mind had whispered. _Are you entirely certain that he didn’t merely call you ‘bruv’ as he usually does?_ It was hardly the kind of thing that he could flat-out _ask_ the boy to clarify… Surely it would only make Harry look the old fool when it inevitably turned out that he was imagining things. 

Sneaking a glance at his dining companion, Harry couldn’t prevent the amused twitch to his lips upon noting that Eggsy was – once again – wearing his green henley shirt. It appeared to be quickly becoming a favourite of the boy’s, and he couldn’t help but wonder if the reason why was simply because he took great delight in reminding Harry about his lapse in control over his mouth when remarking about the colour and the loveliness of Eggsy’s eyes with it; regardless of the motive, Harry could privately admit that he still rather enjoyed the sensation of seeing the young man in clothing that he _himself_ had helped to choose. 

The glint of a silver chain peeking out from beneath the shirt collar caught his eye, and he wondered (not for the first time since his return) why Eggsy had taken to wearing the Kingsman medal once again; it had gone missing from around the boy’s neck almost immediately after Harry had left him with Merlin in the candidate dorm, and he’d thought that perhaps since the medal’s _usefulness_ had been depleted, Eggsy had seen no reason to keep it. He’d been rather surprised after coming back to England to see that the young man had been wearing it religiously once again – what possible significance could it still hold? 

“Harry? Yer starin’, bruv.” Averting his gaze down to his cup of tea, Harry cleared his throat delicately.

“Apologies, I was rather lost in thought.” When he glanced back up, an oddly _soft_ smile was upon the young man’s face. 

“Could see that, yeah. Whatcha thinkin’ about, then?” Seeing no reason to lie, as his thoughts at that moment had been harmless enough, he told the truth.

“I was wondering for what reason you’d taken to wearing your medal again. I hadn’t even been aware that you’d kept it, after your recruitment day.” Eggsy’s face creased into an odd expression that Harry found he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“… _you_ gave me this medal, Harry.” He responded slowly, disbelief colouring his tone.

“Yes…?” Harry could feel his brow creasing in confusion, unsure what that small fact had to do with the topic at hand. 

“So’s why the fuck would I not keep it?” Harry blinked at his plain question. 

“…you kept it because it was something from _me_?” The boy was going to have to forgive him for being so repetitive, it seemed that Harry’s brain was having difficulty functioning. 

“Of fuckin’ _course_ I did, Harry. Don’ be fuckin’ thick.” It was spoken so matter-of-factly, as though this were something that Harry should have just _known_. Eggsy turned back to his breakfast, seemingly without a care in the world, whilst Harry rather felt as though his entire world view had shifted. To think that the boy treasured the medal because _Harry_ had given it to him… He would have never thought. Unbidden, that same possessive beast curled within his chest reared its head once again – the idea of the medal around Eggsy’s neck taking an entirely new light. _It’s as though he keeps you close to his heart._ Harry attempted to brush off the fanciful thought, but it was proving to be oddly resistant to banishment. 

_Dear god, I’m surely going to hell._

* * *

“Go to hell, Unwin!” The angry growl coming from behind him made Eggsy stop in his tracks on his way to the mansion’s main doors, turning with a brow raised to take in his fuming best mate. 

“And what’ve I _apparently_ done this time, to earn cursin’ from ya?” He asked incredulously, while Roxy planted hands on her hips. 

“Merlin is _actually making me fucking learn to pilot_!” She hissed out angrily, and he had to press his teeth sharply into his lower lip to keep himself from laughing. It didn’t seem to matter, as a second later she added, “And get that fucking smirk off your face!” 

“Rox, love – ”

“Don’t you ‘love’ me, you traitor!” He burst out laughing, he couldn’t help it any longer. Her nose scrunched up into a snarl, and he tried to contain his chuckling while he wrapped his arms around her, turning her body so that her back rested snuggly to his chest. Her hands came up to grip his forearm, and her snarl dropped into a truly pathetic pout. “I don’t _want_ to do it. It’s awful.” He pressed a kiss to her hair, leaving his face there to hide his smile. 

“Ain’t nothin’ in this world that can beat ya, Rox. You know that just as good as me.” She snorted inelegantly.

“It’s not a matter of being ‘beaten’. It’s just _entirely_ unecessary.” 

“Thought you always wanted ta be top o’ the class?” He asked in mock-surprise. She lightly swatted his arm where her hands were resting, while she leaned her head a little further into his jaw.

“And what about you?” She deflected. “Why don’t _you_ want to learn it?” 

“Got to be a proper James Bond type, don’ I? All them fast cars, posh booze, and – ”

“If you follow that up with ‘loose women’, I’m going to hit you.” He huffed a laugh and rocked her side-to-side a little. “Besides, it doesn’t take a genius to see the massive hard-on that you have for our boss.” He choked on a breath, loosening his grip around her and pulling back to look at her disbelievingly.

“What the fuck, Rox?”

“What?” She returned. “It’s rather obvious, darling.” He stared, mind scrambling for _some fucking thing_ to say, but was drawing a blank. “Really, Eggsy… You aren’t subtle. Could you possibly just confess your undying love for the man so that we no longer need to cut the tension with a knife any time the two of you are in the same room?” _Always so fuckin’ smarmy, my Rox. Glorious creature._

“Fuck you, mate.” He said on a laugh, bringing his hands up to rub over his face. “And that’s still not gonna get you outta pilotin’ duty.” She went back to pouting, and he cursed himself for being weak to females. “Look at it this way, love – if you’s the one pilotin’, then you got full control over what happens with it, yeah? Ain’t that what bothers ya about the whole thing? That you ain’t got control?” She nodded her head thoughtfully.

“… _I_ could be in control.”

“Yes’m.” She spun on her heel, and Eggsy shouted after her. “Oi! Where ya goin’?”

“To learn how to fly the fucking aircraft!” She shouted back. _That’s my girl_ , he thought proudly. 

It was hours later – when he, Harry, his mum, and his little girl were taking tea out in the gardens – that Roxy and Merlin came to join them; Merlin looked pretty fucking smug, and Roxy was probably as pale as he’d ever seen her. Rather than her usual grace, she just sort of _collapsed_ into one of the garden chairs, mutely accepting the hot cup of tea that Eggsy held out to her.

“Went that well, did it?” He asked dryly, biting down on a smile when she threw him a filthy look. 

“Lancelot shows remarkable aptitude,” Merlin answered, pride shining out in his tone. “Some more practice and I didna think we’ll have any problems leaving her at the helm for some missions.” Roxy just groaned in dismay, and his mum giggled. 

“Excellent news, Merlin.” Harry chimed in, though Eggsy noticed he quickly hid behind his tea cup when Roxy’s eyes narrowed in his direction. He couldn’t even blame him – if ever there was one person on the earth to be proper fucking frightened of, it was _that_ girl. _God damn_. Looking back down at his hands, Eggsy finished tucking a stray stem in on his creation. Checking it over critically, he finally deemed it good enough to hand over to the squirming little girl on his lap.

“Here we are! Daisies for my Daisy.” He affixed the little flower crown upon bouncing blonde curls, smiling when she giggled up at him. 

“Sap.” He heard Roxy call out fondly, and flipped her the V’s behind the toddler’s back before hauling his little girl up a bit higher for a cuddle. Hearing the clicking of a mobile’s camera, he glanced up and was surprised to see that Harry was the culprit. He raised a brow in silent question, but Harry merely shrugged.

“For future blackmail purposes, of course.” The older man intoned dryly, only to scowl when Merlin swiftly stole the mobile right out of his hand.

“Oh dear me, how unfortunate.” Merlin drawled while dodging Harry’s grasp. “It seems I’ve accidentally set the picture as your mobile’s background. Oh my.” Eggsy found himself laughing along with the women as Harry sputtered indignantly. 

Their laughter died quickly, however, when they could hear the sound of an approaching helicopter. The fact that Merlin looked confused by the noise only increased Eggsy’s curiosity – the Quartermaster knew _all_ the ins-and-outs to the mansion grounds; if they were receiving a visitor, he would have been aware of it ahead of time. Handing Daisy off to his mum, Eggsy raised to standing as the others did. He could just see the dark coloured aircraft setting down on the wide-open field where he and Roxy had tumbled to the earth during the skydiving test. 

_Who in the bloody fuckin’ hell could this be?_


	16. Chapter 16

The helicopter that set down on the grounds was mid-sized, five figures emerging from it – four of them armed to the tits. The cold fist of fear in Eggsy’s gut clenched tighter when assault rifles were raised and aimed at them before anyone could even fucking _move_. 

_Mum, Daisy – I ain’t got a fuckin’ thing on me to fight with. Fuck!_

He looked over to see that Merlin and Roxy had pressed his mum and his little girl behind them, creating a shield with their own bodies while Michelle tried to shush the girl into keeping quiet. Harry stood resolute off to one side, his face a blank mask but for the burning fury that Eggsy could see in his eyes. They all stood still as statues at the peril of bullets as the fifth and unarmed figure emerged from behind the others. 

_I fuckin’ hate it when I’m right._

Eggsy knew the man that appeared – knew him _well_. Knew him in blood, sweat, tears and screaming pain. Knew him from a cold October night when he was eleven years old, the night when any sense of feeling _good_ and _clean_ had died within him; had remained dead until Harry swanned into his life to convince him he still had _worth_. It felt as though every part of his body began to shake in fear, and he cursed himself for the weakness. 

_I’ve killed **loads** of baddies – more than even Harry! I shouldn’t be afraid of **him**._

It didn’t matter. The sight of the man – despite having obviously aged from the image of him burned forever into Eggsy’s memory – was enough to revert him to the terrified child that he’d been back then. He clenched his trembling hands and tried to push aside the screaming in his mind so that he could fucking _think_ of a way to get them out of this.

“It’s terribly rude to arrive unannounced.” Harry’s steady voice soothed him like nothing else could – suddenly, the screaming was at bay. The man chuckled, raising an obnoxiously manicured hand to smooth his dark salt-and-pepper hair back into place, tugging the fine burgundy jacket he wore to deal with the creases. _Vain fuckin’ prick. I remember that._ The afternoon sunlight flashed off the signet ring on the man’s left hand, highlighting the backwards letters engraved in it that were meant for sealing wax. 

_Hold still now, pup. We have to show who **owns** you, do we not?_

Eggsy gave his head a hard shake to dismiss the sinister voice, throwing on his own blank mask as the man began to look at those assembled before him. His heart started thumping harder as the man’s gaze turned his way, but aside from a quick assessing look, he moved on with no sign of recognition.

“Ah yes,” The man finally responded, his eyes returning to Harry’s rigid form. “I forgot how much stock your organization puts into being _gentlemanly_. How remiss of me. But, you see, I had rather wanted my visit to be a _surprise_ , after all.”

“What do you want.” It was abundantly clear in Harry’s tone that he was done playing at manners. The man let out an annoyed _tsk_ , but answered him anyways.

“Why _you_ , of course – I remember you, Arthur. Or, should I say, _Harry Hart_.” Eggsy felt as though he was hardly breathing, fear for Harry rising up to close his throat. “You and your people have been making quite a nuisance of yourselves for people like me.”

“Criminals with more money than morals.” On any other day, Eggsy would have laughed over Harry’s response. But the sight of Harry being held at gunpoint – _"Well this ain’t that kind of movie"_ – was overriding everything else within him. _No, not Harry! Please, not Harry, not again! I can’t watch this again!_

“Whatever terms you wish to use. I was particularly interested to see how Mr. Valentine’s planned culling was going to play out – from the safety of my own resources, of course. Richmond wasn’t the only one able to figure out the frequency needed to block out the aggression signal, obviously. I was rather put out that Kingsman brought it to an end. That young agent of yours – what was his name again? ‘Eggsy’? – was particularly _glorious_ to watch, I must say. A bit _old_ for my tastes, but nevertheless. Where is the young man?” It was asked in a deceptively harmless tone as the man looked around, and Eggsy noticed that none of the others so much as glanced his way. He felt a rush of love for them all, for trying to protect him by any means that they could. When the man’s eyes once again skimmed over him dismissively, Eggsy knew that Roxy had been right – without the longer hair and his Kingsman glasses, he wasn’t recognizable as the same agent to the man. _Small mercies_.

“Indisposed at the moment.” Harry replied, drawing the man’s attention away from Eggsy’s direction and back to himself. “As you have yet to introduce yourself, as well as to answer my question, would you mind _getting on with it_.” The man’s face lit with mock-surprise.

“How remiss of me once again!” He gasped, and Eggsy felt his lip curl into a snarl over the theatrics. “You would know me as _Jason Michaelson_ , but my friends call me _Alexander_.” Eggsy could see the moment that Harry put the initials together, coming to the realization that they’d been right – that this was the man who’d had Eggsy snatched off the street when he was a child. He watched as Harry’s hands clenched hard into fists, and felt a rush of love for the older agent and his protectiveness. _That’s my Harry_ , he thought. _Always wantin’ to fight for those he cares for._

“As for your question,” Michaelson continued. “as I've already stated, I’m here for _you_ , obviously. As much fun as it’s been playing around in your systems – laughably easy, I might add – I just simply _cannot_ allow you to continue to poke around in my business. I’d rather hoped that Kingsman would have disintegrated under the culling, but apparently your lot is much like a hydra – cut off one head, and another simply emerges.” 

“Shall we, then?” Harry asked, motioning to the waiting helicopter. The coldness in Eggsy’s chest began spreading as he realized that Harry was going to willingly walk away with this _monster_ in order to protect the rest of them. 

“Oh no, no. I’m afriad you’ve got the wrong idea.” Michaelson chided condescendingly, making Eggsy grit his teeth in fury. “I want nothing from you but your _death_ , you see. I won’t be bringing you anywhere. Don’t bother trying to bargain with me, either – there is absolutely nothing you could offer me, nothing that you own, that would change my mind. Shoot him.” One of the armed subordinates raised his assault rifle higher, aiming at Harry’s head. _NO!_

“Wait!” Eggsy shouted, trying to bury the desperate tone to his voice. Michaelson held up a hand to stall his order, turning to Eggsy with a brow raised in question. “That ain’t exactly true, bruv.”

“ _What_ isn’t true?” Michaelson asked, and Eggsy prayed with everything left within him – prayed to any fucking deity that might want to take pity on him. 

“He _does_ own something you want.”

* * *

Harry felt his breath catch within his chest, feeling equal parts love for the boy for trying to protect him, and cursing him for drawing attention to himself. As to Eggsy’s statement, Harry tried not to let his confusion show – for Michaelson had been quite right; there was _nothing_ that Harry or Kingsman could offer the man that would make him change his mind. He already had money and power of his own, what other thing could there be that might even remotely attract such a man? Clearly Michaelson felt the same, if his condescending reply to Eggsy’s statement was any indication.

“And what could that _possibly_ be?” 

“His dog.” Harry blinked at Eggsy’s reply, completely lost. _What?_ The boy shuffled a couple steps closer to Michaelson, hands raised in front of him. “You like dogs, don’ ya?” Harry switched his gaze to the other man, surprised to see that Michaelson was regarding Eggsy with narrow-eyed suspicion rather than confusion. “Y’see, Mr. Hart here is a smart man. Y’know that?” 

_‘Mr. Hart’? Eggsy has **never** referred to me as such – I’ve always just been ‘Harry’ to him. What in the bloody hell is going on?!_

“And a smart man, well he knows just what kind o’ dog to get, yeah?” Eggsy continued, and Harry was gratified to see that Merlin and Lancelot both looked just as lost as he felt. “A smart man don’ go in fer any o’ those inbred, pedigreed fuckers from the breeders – a smart man picks himself up a stray. Do ya know why?”

“Enlighten me.” Michaelson said, amusement but also wariness in his tone. 

“You take a stray, bring him up outta the gutter, yeah? Take him in, clean him up. Give him some scraps ta eat and give him a pat on the head every now and again, tell him he’s a _good boy_ every once and awhile. He might not be the prettiest dog, sure. Might not have the best _manners_. But I tell you what, that stray’ll be the most loyal fuckin’ dog you’ll ever own. He’d do _anythin’_ for his owner – absolutely anythin’ to keep him happy, to protect him. _Even at cost to himself_.” It didn’t take a genius to realize that Eggsy was describing himself, rather than an actual dog, but Harry hadn’t the slightest idea as to _why_ he was framing it in such a way. Michaelson seemed to understand where Harry did not.

“Give me a knife.” He demanded, holding an open palm out to one of his underlings. Upon receipt of the weapon, he began walking closer to Eggsy, and Harry felt his muscles tense. He quelled the urge to lunge as the knife was delicately skimmed down the length of Eggsy’s throat, coming to rest half inside the collar of his green shirt. The tearing sound that the material made as the knife slid down the length of the boy’s chest was almost as loud in the silence as a gunshot, and Harry heard the frightened intake of breath from Michelle behind Merlin’s back. The shirt opened at the cut, falling into an unceremonious heap on the grass as Michaelson tugged it off of Eggsy’s shoulders. The Kingsman medal glinted in the fading afternoon sunlight as it was revealed, and Michaelson’s gaze seemed to narrow as he took it in. 

“I’ve seen such a thing before.” He murmured. “On a _very bad dog_.” Eggsy swallowed harshly at the words, but made no other move. Michaelson’s fingers dipped into the waistband of Eggsy’s trousers, and Harry had hardly a moment to feel the burning rage before Michaelson tugged sharply to bring both the trousers and his pants low enough to display the brand upon the boy’s abdomen. Michaelson’s face creased into an angered snarl as he let go of the trousers and took a step back from Eggsy. 

“What d’ya say?” Eggsy asked, the barest tremor to his voice. “Spare him and keep his dog instead.”

“ _My_ dog.” Michaelson grit out angrily. “You were _mine_! I marked you _first_!” Harry positively _ached_ with the need to get his hands around the bastard’s neck, but was startled to see Eggsy’s jaw clench in familiar stubbornness, replacing the subtle fear that had been there previously. 

“Wrong.” The boy practically growled. “Fuckin’ wrong – _he_ marked me first.” Eggsy reached up to tap his chest just below the swinging medal. “I was _always_ his, _never yours_.” A swirl of possessiveness and guilt arose within him at the young man’s words, and Harry tamped down harshly on the feelings – they would be dealt with and examined at a much more convenient time. 

“I could still kill him _and_ take you.” Michaelson assured in smug anger, and a dangerous smile pressed onto Eggsy’s lips. 

“Not without more bloodshed than you want; you saw what I did in Valentine’s bunker, mate. Kill him, and I’ll destroy the fuckin’ _world_ in revenge on you.” Subtle surprise passed over Michaelson’s face.

“Then I presume you’re ‘Eggsy’?” It was more statement than a question, but the boy smirked in response regardless. 

“You let him go unharmed, and I’ll come with ya without a fight. Won’t raise a single fuckin’ hand, swear down.” Eggsy leaned a bit closer, his voice dropping lower with menace. “But you do _anythin’_ to that man, and I’ll make sure you fuckin’ regret it. I did Valentine quick ‘cos I’d been in a bit of a hurry at the time, y’see. But you? You and me’s got _lots_ to work with – I’d take my proper time killin’ _you_.” Harry held his breath as Michaelson seemed to consider Eggsy’s terms, wanting nothing more than to _move_ and _fight_. He was hampered by his fear for Michelle and Daisy; he’d promised Eggsy that he would take care of them, and possibly getting them shot because he itched to save himself was simply unacceptable. 

“We have an agreement.” Michaelson finally said, and the slightest bit of tension loosened from the boy’s shoulders. “On your knees.” Harry’s hands clenched harder as the younger agent fell to kneeling unhesitatingly, cooperatively putting his hands behind his back so that one of the underlings could restrain him. The underling roughly jerked Eggsy back to standing when he was done, beginning to pull his smaller form toward the ready helicopter. “Wait.” Michaelson demanded, and the retreating figures came to an abrupt halt. “One more detail.” Michaelson strode over to Eggsy, grasping the hanging medal and jerking it harshly so that the chain snapped from its place around his neck. He gave the boy a triumphant smirk as he threw the medal dismissively at Harry’s feet. “You’re not _his_ dog any longer. You’re _mine_.” 

Harry watched in impotent fury as Eggsy was loaded onto the aircraft with Michaelson, the three remaining underlings slowly backing toward them whilst never removing the aim of their rifles from Harry and the others. The helicopter ascended, becoming an ever-smaller shadow within the sky as Harry’s entire world came crashing down around him. _They took him. They have Eggsy!_ He bent slowly, picking up the discarded medal with reverence, recalling just that morning when Eggsy had told him matter-of-factly that he treasured the thing because _Harry_ had given it to him. Michelle’s weeping and little Daisy’s distressed whimpers filtered through the panicked buzzing in his ears, and Harry forced himself to focus. 

They were going to get him back.

They would find Eggsy, bring him home safe and unharmed – and _may god have mercy on anyone who would try to stand in their way_.

* * *

Eggsy had been expecting the bag over his head. He’d been expecting to play docile, wait until they were far enough away from the mansion grounds, and then he’d been expecting to raise all holy hell upon the others in the helicopter. He’d been expecting to kill them all, jump out of the thing before it crashed, and then take a nice stroll back to his family. He’d had his restraints dealt with already, and expected the whole affair to take less than fifteen minutes. 

He hadn’t been expecting the prick of a needle in his neck. _Stupid mistake, Eggsy. Shoulda known they wouldn’t trust ya to keep yer word not to fight._

When he next woke up, he was laying on a plush bed with a heavy weight around his neck. Taking stock of the noise and scents around him, he determined that he was most likely alone in the room and opened his eyes. The light felt like it pierced straight through his aching head, but he forced himself to ignore the pain and take in his surroundings properly – the bed was a high and expensive affair, smooth silky sheets whispering under him as he sat up more fully; the frame of the bed looked like sturdy wrought iron, and had obviously been reinforced for strength; careful feeling of the weight around his neck revealed a metal collar, a large lock of some kind at the back and a heavy chain connecting it to the frame of the bed. _Bollocks_. 

He wrapped the chain around his hands, planting his feet against the bed frame and giving a cursory pull. The links in the chain didn’t so much as creak. _Figured it wouldn’ be so easy._ It was far more likely that he’d have to find a way to pick the lock, in order to release himself. Shifting on the bed once again, Eggsy noticed that certain things were a little… _freer_ than before. Glancing down, he saw that his trousers and pants had obviously been removed while he was unconscious, having been replaced with only a loose pair of trackies (and no pants to speak of) instead. _So much for bein’ able to contact Kingsman with the hidden tech, I guess._ Michaelson had probably done a sweep for just that very thing and decided to burn the clothes. 

The knowledge of his clothes being removed, of being _touched_ by strangers, while he was unconscious made him feel that old familiar nausea in his stomach – a feeling that he’d only just realized had become less frequent in recent months at the mansion. He gave an experimental stretch to his body, breathing a sigh of relief at the lack of aches and pains, indicating that nothing… _other_ had happened while he was out of it. _Not **yet** , anyways._ The sick feeling in his gut burned away in sudden righteous fury – he’d been _healing_ , he’d been getting better and had been able to touch Harry, and Rox, and even fucking _Merlin_ and he’d been okay with it all; he’d been _healing_ , and if this fuck-nut set him back on his recovery he was going to _burn them all to the ground_. 

Growling lowly to himself, Eggsy began searching his surroundings for something to turn into a lockpick, but was brought to a quick halt by the sound of approaching footsteps just outside the door to the room he was being held in. It opened unceremoniously to the sight of Michaelson, dressed down from what he’d had on earlier, a triumphant smirk on his disgusting face that Eggsy wanted nothing better than to smash into the fucking ground. 

“So good of you to finally join us.” Michealson greeted with amusement, and Eggsy sneered.

“You gotta work at bein’ less cliché, bruv. At least fuckin’ Valentine knew that much.” He was expecting the backhanded slap to his face, holding himself rigid and refusing to let the force knock him over. His cheek stung with the blow, and he could feel his mouth filling up with blood from where contact with his teeth had cut the delicate tissues inside. He spit the blood out onto the fine silk below him, relishing the flash of annoyance that crossed Michaelson’s expression.

“I always _hated_ foul-mouthed little guttersnipes like you.” The man said almost conversationally as he walked past the end of the bed and further into the room. “But for someone of my _particular_ interests, it was much easier to take the filthy urchins that no one would miss. As you know, the one time that I aspired for a pet of _good_ breeding, it set the fucking Kingsmen on my tail.” Eggsy didn’t bother to make the argument that even them ‘filthy urchins’ had people to miss them, he knew that Michaelson wouldn’t care. Such a monster as him wouldn’t be swayed by something that demanded _empathy_. “Tell me,” Michaelson began again, a curious tone to his voice. “however did the old King convince you to work for him back then? What did they offer you that made it _worth_ the fun that I had with you? Was it money?” Eggsy firmly shut the door on the painful memories that tried to surface. _I need to concentrate_.

“I weren’t workin’ fer him.” He said, only for Michaelson to scoff in disbelief. “I weren’t. You just had some bad luck with Riggs grabbin’ the wrong kid, mate.” Footsteps sounded outside the door once again, along with a slight squeaking sound. 

“We’ll see about that.” Michaelson assured as he called for the new arrival to come in. The door opened to reveal one of the underlings that had been at the mansion, wheeling in a cart that held various weapons and torture devices on top of it. As the underling began securing Eggsy’s wrists and ankles to hold him still, he noticed the old-fashioned camera and tripod that were on the lower shelf of the cart. Following his gaze, Michaelson smirked. “Ah yes,” He said, excitement and pleasure ringing out in his voice. “you remember that part, don’t you?” 

Yes, he fucking _did_ remember _that part_. 

_Fuck_.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger Warning:** There are some descriptions of torture in this chapter, but nothing too graphic as of yet.

“Harry.”

All hope was lost. It had been seven hours since Eggsy’s abduction, and they had gotten _nowhere_.

“Harry.”

He stared down at the photo on his mobile, taking in Eggsy’s smiling face that was looking at little Daisy with such a wealth of love that it made Harry’s own heart ache. _How is it possible that things were so different only mere hours ago?_ Eggsy’s favoured green shirt, now cruelly torn to pieces by that utter _filth_ , and his discarded medal sat upon the low table in Merlin’s office – positively _taunting_ Harry with the very sight of them; two things that the boy had treasured, broken and forever tainted because of Eggsy’s willingness to put himself on the line for Harry. _But why? Why would he do such a thing for me? Why sacrifice himself?_

“Harry, you melodramatic _fuck_ – ” 

He ignored Merlin’s voice, too deep in his misery and self-recrimination. _If I had never brought him to Kingsman, none of this would have happened. If I had never recruited Lee, he wouldn’t have died and Eggsy could have grown up happy._

“Harry.” Michelle’s quiet voice struck him where Merlin’s had failed to, and Harry raised his eyes from the photo. 

“This is all my fault.” He told her mournfully, swallowing hard on his guilt. She hurriedly passed Daisy to Merlin for holding and joined Harry on the settee, grasping his cold hands tightly. Her pretty face was set into stern lines, and she squeezed down harder on his fingers.

“You listen to me, Harry fuckin’ Hart – ain’t none o’ this yer fault! Not a single bit o’ it.”

“He was here because of me,” He argued, watching as her lips pressed together even more tightly. “I was one who brought him in, just like Lee. He’s gone because _I brought him here_.” 

“You stop spoutin’ that fuckin’ _nonsense_. Ain’t neither of my men the type ta let themselves get talked into _nothin’_ – Lee woulda joined up with ya because he _wanted_ to, same as Eggsy. What kind o’ life do ya think my boy woulda had if you hadn’t brought him here, huh?” Harry opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off before he had the chance. “ _No fuckin’ life_ , that’s what. Even if Dean hadn’t slit his throat that day, there still woulda been the drugs, and the theivin’, and even fuckin’ _Smith Street_! You didn’ put him in danger by bringin’ him here, you gave him a _choice_ on whether to put _himself_ into danger or not.” 

The statement gave him pause; Eggsy himself had said much the same thing, once upon a time. _But even if it is so, why go to such lengths to protect me?_ He nodded his head slightly to show that he understood what she was telling him, taking a moment to think on how he wanted to frame his question – for surely, if _any_ would have insight into the young man’s reasoning, would it not be his own mother?

“Why me?” He asked simply, when grander words failed him. “Why sacrifice himself for _me_?” The disbelief on the woman’s face surprised him, as did Roxy’s derisive snort and mutter of _Ugh, men_. 

“Y’serious?!” Michelle asked incredulously, and Harry felt like an imbecile without quite knowing _why_. Perhaps reading the expression on his face, her own fell into sad understanding. “Did none o’ yas ever actually _watch_ what happened when Eggsy killed yer last boss?” Harry blinked, not having the slightest clue as to what that had to do with the topic at hand. 

“No,” Merlin answered on his behalf. “we’ve been too overrun since V-Day; I assumed we could take Eggsy’s version of what happened as the truth and move on.” 

“Why don’ ya get it up on yer screens, then.” She said with an expectantly arched eyebrow, and Merlin complied without further comment. Still lost as to what was going on, Harry turned his eyes to the monitors just in time to see the feed from Chester’s glasses come active.

He watched as Eggsy burst through the Meeting Room doors, in the same black outfit that he’d worn during their disastrous argument. He was visibly distraught, his voice cracking in a heartbreaking way upon _Arthur, Harry’s dead_. Harry felt a pull of annoyance when Chester corrected the boy with his codename, the statement coming across as callous and unfeeling. With a quiet _Come sit down, boy_ Eggsy was slumping into Harry’s chair, and the older agent was struck with a sudden realization – Eggsy’s discomfort the day of Harry’s coronation as Arthur when told to sit in Galahad’s chair; the way he had gripped the arms as though ready to fly out of the seat. _This is where Chester tried to kill him, and I forced him to sit in the same place… It’s hardly any wonder he was upset that day._

He raised a brow as Chester began to pour them brandy for toasting, his assurance of _Galahad was very fond of you_ causing a cramping in his gut at the realization that apparently he hadn’t been as circumspect about his feelings for Eggsy in front of the old bastard as he’d imagined. His thoughts were brought to a pause as the young man’s face changed, turning hard and cold for so quick of a moment that Harry almost missed it, just before the view from Chester’s glasses shifted away from him.

“He noticed something.” He murmured, only to have Merlin provide the answer.

“The implantation scar on the side of Chester’s neck, according to his initial report.”

He watched, pride bubbling in his chest, as Eggsy leaned forward to ask about the portraits upon the wall – it was clearly a distraction of some kind, though from his limited viewpoint Harry was unable to determine what for. He felt uneasy as both figures downed their drinks, knowing that things were about to turn badly. _Harry said you don’ like to bend the rules_ , the boy proclaimed with furious eyes. Eggsy’s quiet outrage at Chester’s defection was obvious, and Harry marvelled at the restraint that he showed. He clenched his fists tightly as Chester brought out the poison pen, charged and ready to so casually destroy such a worthy life. 

_Can you guess what this is?_

_Don’ have to, Harry showed me. You click it, I die. Thought that brandy tasted a bit shit._

A smile reluctantly pulled at the corner of Harry’s lips over Eggsy’s utter cheek, despite the fraught circumstances. The slight amusement faded when Chester made his offer to make Eggsy his candidate for Harry’s own replacement – the boy’s expression was positively _murderous_ , though Harry doubted that Chester would have been able to tell. The young man was left to make a decision, and even though he already knew the outcome, he found himself holding his breath.

_I’d rather be with Harry. Thanks._

All the air punched out of him at the statement. The noises of Chester’s choking demise passed over him, as his mind swirled awfully. Reaching out blindly, he grabbed Merlin’s clipboard from where he’d left it resting upon the table and hurriedly rewound the video.

_I’d rather be with Harry._

_I’d rather be with Harry._

_I’d rather be with Harry._

There it was, suddenly before him – Eggsy’s face was awash with furious grief, clearly _mourning_ him. Harry recalled that Eggsy would have only _just_ watched Harry’s supposed demise. The young man’s expression was no mere sadness, it was the absolute _devastation_ of losing one of the brightest shining things in your world. When he said _I’d rather be with Harry_ , it was clearly not just a flippant answer to Chester’s offer, but rather an undeniable truth – that in such a moment, Eggsy would have rather been dead with Harry than to have to face a world without him. 

_He loves you. He **must** , to make such a statement._

“I worried we was gonna lose him, after all the fightin’ was over and we was together again.” Michelle murmured quietly, as Harry stopped repeatedly rewinding and paused the video on Eggsy’s gorgeous face. “He was lost without ya, Harry. He tried ta keep himself goin’ fer the rest of us, but he weren’t livin’ any kind of life without ya in it… ‘s the way we Unwins are, when we lose our other halves.” Harry swallowed thickly, emotion clogging his throat. 

“… _other half_?” He asked quietly, and Michelle _tsk_ ed.

“You say diff’rent?” She asked archly, and the huff of laughter that came out of him sounded much too close to a sob for his comfort. 

“Then he is by far the _better_ one.” Eggsy was all things beautiful and _good_ where Harry was nothing more than broken darkness. 

“Don’ put me boy up on no pedestal, Harry. He ain’t no angel, just a real flesh and blood person.” The words came like a slap on the wrist, and he shook his head ruefully. 

“Of course, Michelle.” The conversation was brought to a sudden halt by an alert going off on the monitor.

“Harry.” Merlin said urgently, as the older agent jumped to his feet to review the information that had just arrived. 

“Get me the Italian branch on the phone.” He ordered. “I _must_ speak with Sofia.” 

Eggsy loved him. Eggsy _loved_ him, and Harry would be stone cold in the ground beside him before he let the boy slip through his fingers this time.

_Hold on, dearest. I’m coming for you._

* * *

Eggsy was used to pain.

He’d spent more than half his life being beaten, threatened, fucked and otherwise abused. He knew pain like an old familiar friend, knew how much he could take. As he watched Michaelson look over his choices of weapons like he was picking out fucking diamonds, he also knew that everything he’d known about pain was about to be put to the test. 

_Bollocks._

“Ah, but I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I?” Michaelson asked the room at large, once again clear of his lackeys and down to just the two of them. Moving away from the instruments and to the camera equipment instead, he chuckled at Eggsy’s stony silence. “We can’t proceed without this part first, yes? Since you _robbed_ me of such a pretty picture the first time.” Eggsy was bound kneeling on the plush mattress, wrists secured to his ankles and heavy collar still chained to the bed frame. 

“Did you do that to all the others?” He asked, his tone one of idle curiosity while he subtly worked to free his hands. “Take their picture before you killed them?” Michaelson hummed thoughtfully while he played around with dials on the camera.

“Of _course_ I did,” He answered disdainfully. “they may have ultimately been _bad dogs_ , but one should always keep mementos of pretty pets.” 

“Children.” Eggsy cut in furiously. “You’re talkin’ about _human children_ , not just some fuckin’… _things_ that you can just use up and get rid of!” Michaelson waved a hand as if to dismiss the statement, and Eggsy grit his teeth to keep from screaming in fury. _The crazy pretty much never realize that they’re fuckin’ mental. Ain’t worth the breath._ It took more willpower than it should have to stop himself from flinching when Michaelson came close to him, brandishing a permanent marker pen. 

“I’m assumin’ you remember what happened the last time you tried that shit.” He growled, and felt a vicious twist of victory deep in his belly when the bastard looked startled and even slightly afraid. 

“Fine, I suppose it hardly matters.” Michaelson said with a derisive sniff while tossing the marker pen away unused, clearly trying to make it seem as though it was by his own decision instead of momentary fear of what Eggsy would do. _Real fuckin’ diff’rent when you’re dealin’ with a grown man instead o’ some terrified kid, ain’t it ya fuckin’ prick._ The thought came to him in a sudden flash of clarity – he wasn’t some helpless child anymore… He was a man full-grown. And not just _any_ man; he was a Kingsman agent, trained to be one of the most deadly operatives in the world. 

He was mother fucking _Excalibur_. 

Eggsy looked at Michaelson with new eyes, and found him pathetic – an aging elitist _knob_ that had manicured fucking fingernails and cared more about the cut of his coat than his fellow man; a sad sack of shit that obviously tried _very_ hard to have the kind of suave elegance that came naturally to men like Harry. A _coward_ that preyed upon children and those weaker than him in order to feel powerful. _Prob’ly because o’ that tiny fuckin’ prick he’s got_ , he thought meanly. Michaelson was the weak one; he was _nothing_ compared to kind of man that Eggsy had become. 

_You want to turn people into dogs? Alright, arsehole. I’m gonna put ya down like a fuckin’ rabid mutt then, see if I don’t._

“I’ve modified the camera, you may have noticed.” Michaelson tittered on, seemingly unaware of his imminent death. “I simply _adore_ the aesthetic of the older methods, but of course in this day and age the ability to digitize your precious memories is tantamount. So I’ve upgraded it to send the captured images straight to my computer in the study, rather than requiring a dark room for development. The process of scanning in all my older mementos was _tedious_ , but I suppose needs must.”

“Ever heard o’ fuckin’ _Instagram_ , bruv?” 

“Philistine.” Michaelson positioned himself behind the camera, bending at the waist slightly to peer through the viewfinder. “Come now, I’m sure you can make a much more attractive expression.”

“I didn’ cry fer you the _first_ time you tried ta take my picture, I’m sure as fuck not gonna do it now.” His captor sighed as though Eggsy was being unreasonable, and he could hear the click of the shutter as he took the picture anyway. 

“I _suppose_ that will have to do, then. On to more pressing matters, shall we?” He readied himself as Michaelson picked up what looked like a small billy club, obviously deciding to go for blunt force before blood. _Wanker_. “Now, be _honest_ with me. Were you spying for the old King the first time you were my little pet?” Eggsy stared at him stonily, already knowing that the fucker wouldn’t accept the truth. It earned him a dramatic sigh, followed by “So be it.” 

The club crashed into his side with surprising force, knocking the breath from his lungs and causing him to gasp noisily to gain it back. He’d hardly managed to do so as he was struck with another blow, this time to his left shoulder blade from where he’d subconsciously curled into himself to protect his stomach. More brutal strikes rained down – his spine, kidneys, ribs, one even caught the edge of his jaw – and he counted on Michaelson to be distracted enough with the beating that he could pick at the restraints on his hands a bit more quickly than he had been earlier. Endless moments passed before Michaelson seemed to grow bored of his game, panting slightly for breath as he turned his back on Eggsy to stroll over to the cart to choose a new toy. 

The places where he’d been hit throbbed with a familiar heat, the skin already swelling in anger and flushing with blood that would soon become thunderous bruising. _Hello darkness, my old friend…_ Sang through his thoughts, and Eggsy had to bite back on hysterical giggles. It wouldn’t be good to let his mind fall into trauma and shock when he needed his wits to get himself _out_. Just as Michaelson was turning back with a thin and wicked-looking skinning knife, he felt the ropes binding his hands fall loose. _What the **fuck**?!_ Even though he could feel that the ropes had fallen away, somehow his hands were still immobilized at the wrists.

“Something the matter, pet?” Michaelson’s smug tone grated against Eggsy’s every last nerve. “Did you _really_ think I’d be stupid enough to bind you with only _rope_? You’re a trained Kingsman agent – and thanks to my playing in your precious systems, I am _very_ aware of what skills you possess. No, no. I’ve also taken the precaution of binding you with steel cable.” Eggsy twisted his hands, feeling the cable dig harshly into the skin. _Mother **fucker**!_

“You’re gonna die,” Eggsy assured him in a low growl. “slowly and fuckin’ painfully. I won’t hesitate, and I won’t have _mercy_.” 

“You’re in no position to be making such threats, at the moment.”

“But I _will_ be, you can fuckin’ count on _that_.” 

“I doubt it.” Michaelson said smugly, before a thoughtful look overtook his face. “I find myself losing interest in the past… Let’s talk about _now_ , shall we? Like, for instance, why you would so easily give yourself up for your _Mr. Hart_ – surely he can’t be _that_ wonderful of an owner. Or perhaps this was the plan all along? To tempt me into taking you, so as to gain inside information on me? Does your Mr. Hart really have so much faith in your skills?” The knife pressed down on his chest, just above his heart, and he could actually _feel_ the skin begin to split under the sharpness of the blade. Blood began to drip down his chest as Michaelson completed a short stroke, bubbling up from the resulting slit.

“Get fucked.” Eggsy couldn’t resist taunting, even though he knew that it would only earn him more pain in the end. 

“Perhaps later,” Michaelson murmured as he pressed the knife down again, this time just below Eggsy’s left eye. “You’re not as pretty as you used to be, but I’m sure I could make an exception.” Blood dripped over the curve of his cheek, collecting at the sharp jut of his clenched jaw and falling in quiet _splats_ to join the rest on his torso. _I’ve had worse. I **will not** scream for him._ His breath began to pant as his body processed the pain, sweat rising on his skin and the bruises from the club throbbing harder. More torturous little cuts were made to his skin, the sweat dripping into the open wounds and stinging maddeningly with its salt. 

“Is such a man _really_ worth suffering all this?” Michaelson continued. “Is he _really_ worth _dying_ for?” Eggsy’s head jerked up, gaze burning with fury.

“ _Fuck yeah!_ ”

* * *

“I’ve got the jet ready for travel to Italy, Arthur. All we have to do is get on it.” Merlin’s voice drew Harry’s attention from where he had once again been enraptured with the photo of Eggsy and Daisy that was set to his mobile. _You will have moments such as these once again, I **swear** it._

“Excellent,” He responded. “we leave at once.” He was brought short by Michelle catching the sleeve of his suit jacket, her face pinched in sorrow and worry.

“Bring him home, Harry.” She entreated him, and he felt as though he could choke on the misery within him. 

“I shall either do so, or join him for the trying.” He promised, and she nodded her head in understanding.

“Dinna say such a thing, Harry.” Merlin admonished softly, as the older agent made his way toward the hangar. 

“I’d rather be with Eggsy.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger Warning:** Canon-typical levels of violence and gore.

“ _Caro… Mi dispiace tanto._ What can we do to help?” For perhaps the first time, Harry found himself taking comfort in the sight of Sofia as he stepped off the jet, Merlin and Lancelot at his back. He grasped her outstretched hands, her lovely face set in resolute lines. 

“I need everything you’ve gathered since I called – I want my agent back and this matter wrapped up as quickly as possible.” He forced himself to bury his misery deep; Harry needed to handle this as _Arthur_ , or Eggsy would suffer for his distraction. Sofia nodded quickly in understanding, turning on her pointed heel to lead them to her own Quartermaster’s office. The corridors of the Italian branch were decorated in richly vibrant mosaics depicting ancient Roman mythology; were it any other day, Harry would have slowed his pace to enjoy the imagery and the skill of the work, but his creeping despair prevented him from sparing it even a glance. 

For what was colour, in a world without Eggsy?

The Quartermaster’s office was a buzzing hive of activity; people raced to-and-fro, shouting information at each other in rapid-fire Italian whilst a solitary figure stood unmoving in the midst of it all. The only bit of Adelina, codenamed _Cagliostro_ , that showed signs of life were her restless hazel eyes – they skimmed the information being displayed on the large screens before her, and her attention didn’t waver in the slightest as they entered the room. She reached up suddenly, pulling a tablet pen from amidst her wild curls and tapping quickly on the small screen clutched in her fingers. 

“Arthur.” She greeted without raising her head. 

“Cagliostro,” Harry returned, stepping closer and turning to also view the screens. “Cosimo assures me that you’ve made some progress.” 

“Yes, _signore_. This man you told us about, Riggs – we have tracked him to an _osteria_ just here.” With a few deft taps upon her tablet, a map appeared on the screens with a pulsating icon to pinpoint the location of the pub to which she referred. 

“Simple.” Sofia murmured. “By the time our agents reach him, he should be _bevuto_ , how you British say?”

“Sloshed.” Lancelot provided with slight amusement, before turning serious once more. 

“No.” Harry cut into the conversation. “We will retrieve Riggs ourselves.” To someone who didn’t know him, his tone may have sounded idle – but to all the agents in the room, British and Italian alike, it was nothing short of _deadly_. Sofia watched him with some concern, before relenting. 

“As you wish, Arthur.” 

“Merlin. Remain here and assist Cagliostro – Lancelot and I will go to the location and retrieve the target for… _questioning_.” 

“Yes, sir.” Merlin acquiesced, before taking Harry’s place at Adelina’s side; the two Quartermasters seemed to size each other up for a moment, before Adelina threw her counterpart a saucy wink. 

“I’m sure we’ll get along just fine, eh _miele_?” Merlin’s only response was a long-suffering sigh as Harry and Roxy left the room. 

“Harry…” Roxy called softly as they made their way toward where the cab would pick them up for transport. “Are you going to be alright?” He could hear the warring emotions in her tone – worry for Eggsy, sadness for Harry’s own upset, concern over his ability to think clearly enough to get the job done. He couldn’t bring himself to fault her for it; were the situation reversed, Harry would have held much the same reservations. 

“I will stop at _nothing_ to get him back, no matter who I must go through or what I must do to accomplish it. There is _no other option_. Not for me.” She was quiet, presumably contemplating his words, until they were settled in the back of the cab and on their way. 

“You love him, then.” She stated with certainty. “The same as how he loves _you_ , I mean.” 

Harry kept his silence. He would not utter the words aloud for the first time to anyone but Eggsy himself.

* * *

_You’re a worthless piece o’ **shite** , Muggsy!_

“Come now, agent. I expected you to hold up a bit better than this.” 

_Boys like you, only ever causin’ trouble. You keep on like this, you ain’t gonna be any better than the rest, Gary._

“What shall I use next? Ah, how about this lovely little piece?”

_You think some two-bit **whore** like you deserves better? What a laugh!_

“Mongrels like you deserve this, you know.”

_You’re just a **pleb**._

“I won’t be bested by you twice, dog.”

_You dirty little fucking prick!_

Eggsy was given a brief moment of respite as there came a knock on the door, internally breathing a sigh of relief as the unused glowing iron was lowered back onto the collapsible burner. Michaelson had been going on about branding him again to show his ownership – _perhaps this time with something a little bigger_ – and grunted in irritation to be stopped before he could do so. The rage pulled heavily at Eggsy’s insides, churning and twisting as every nasty thing that had ever been done to him in his _shit_ life came back to haunt him. 

He’d tried to be a good person.

He’d done his best to take care of his family, to make them _safe_ , to provide for them the only fucking way that he knew how. He’d taken beatings meant for others, drawn all sorts of bad attention to himself so that it wouldn’t be on someone else that he cared about. He’d allowed himself to be twisted, used, and discarded like so much dirty fucking laundry – all for the greater good. He’d done all this shit, put up with _every fucking bit of it_ , and it had never been _enough_. 

He’d pasted a fucking smile on his face and done it all. 

But when had anyone ever done the same for _him_? When had anyone ever looked past the fake smile and his assurances of _It’s fine, I’ve got this, Go on,_ and even _Get out of the fucking car_ – they all took him at face-value, heard what he said and let themselves be fucking blissful in the idea that he was exactly as tough as he made them believe. 

No, Eggsy don’t need no help – _he’s got this_ , he said so. Best be on our fucking way then.

Fuck it. _Fuck it_. Just once he was gonna get his own back. Just _once_ he was gonna take that good person that he’d always tried to be, and he was gonna tell that fucking wanker to wait in the wings – because he’d had _enough_. Just once these fucking arseholes were gonna get what was coming to them, because he was gonna be the one to _fucking give it to them_.

He felt the hate, the pain and frustration and fourteen years of fucking impotent rage, and for the first time he _really_ let it take hold of him. He felt it all, and he felt _free_. He watched with predatory eyes as Michaelson came stomping back over to him, clearly annoyed by the news his underling had just given him. He grabbed Eggsy’s face roughly, jerking his head back and snarling at him with fetid breath. 

“I am getting _very_ tired of your people and their interference!” Eggsy smirked up at him the best he could with his split lips, feeling some kind of feral beast arise within his chest.

“Wha’s the matter, bruv? My Harry givin’ ya some trouble?” The punch to the left side of his jaw barely registered. 

“I shall return to deal with _you_ presently.” Michaelson grit from between clenched teeth, before storming from the room and leaving Eggsy alone. _Perfect_. 

Slick blood coated Eggsy’s hands from where the steel cable had cut into the skin of his wrists while he’d twisted them about, and he folded his thumbs into his palms as best he could. The wetness of the blood acted like a lubricant of sorts, his skin sliding against the metal more easily as he wrenched his hands. Slowly, millimeter by fucking millimeter, he coaxed the cable down over his hands as he ignored the sharp tear of skin. Absolute _victory_ flushed through him as one last vicious _yank_ won him freedom for his arms; not bothering to waste time revelling in his success, he immediately turned to begin dismantalling the similar bindings upon his ankles. 

That left only the problem of the steel collar about his neck. 

Glancing around the room, Eggsy spotted the cart and all of its implements and grinned sharply at the utter _stupidity_ of his captor – there were many things upon the cart that he could use as a lockpick; he was positively _spoiled_ for choices, really. He quickly grabbed the thin needle-like rod that Michaelson had dug under his fingernails only hours beforehand, rubbing the raw skin of his neck gratefully as the heavy lock gave way and he threw the collar upon the bed. 

A fire burned within him as he made his way to the door, only to be brought to a considering halt beside the cart. The skinning knife lay placidly upon the top of it, and at the sight of it Eggsy was filled with an undeniable compulsion – he picked the blade up, his blood-slickened grip tightening about the hilt. 

He would have his revenge, _fuck yes_. But first… First he needed to make a little pit stop to the kitchens.

* * *

Harry had long been an absolute believer in the concept of _poetic justice_ , but never before had it aligned so utterly _perfectly_. He and Lancelot arrived within the pub that Riggs had been tracked to, just in time for Harry to spot their target disappearing around a door marked _bagno degli uomini_ – the men’s room. He recalled vividly the night that Riggs had attacked Eggsy in the men’s toilet at the club in Peckham, and supressed a triumphant growl within his chest. 

“Lancelot, clear the room out here, if you would be so kind.” He hardly spared the younger agent a glance as his steady gait brought him closer to the door, stalking his prey. This particular retribution was going to be _sweet_ indeed. Riggs’ head snapped up at the sound of the door’s lock clicking shut, warily eyeing Harry up through use of the mirror in front of him.

“ _Che cazzo vuoi_?” Riggs snarled in a truly deplorable accent. _I mean, **really** – at least strive for some form of competency when speaking another language._

“To have a little chat. _That_ is ‘what the fuck I want’, Mister Riggs.” Upon hearing his blatantly British accent, Riggs’ expression cleared in understanding. 

“You that posh fucker my employer’s got some kind of hard-on for, then.” Harry could feel his lip curl in distaste at the terminology, but told himself to focus on more important things. 

“I will make one thing perfectly clear, Mister Riggs – I want to know where the boy is being kept, and I want to know _now_.” 

“I ain’t tellin’ you _shit_.” He’d been expecting such a response; perhaps even gleefully anticipating it. 

“Very well.” Harry sighed, before striking out with slightly pointed knuckles to the soft tissue of Riggs’ side, applying brutal force just over the left kidney. He caught the other man by his greasily matted hair, bending him forward and slamming his face into the hard stone edge of the sink. Bending low over the temporarily dazed form, Harry couldn’t stop himself. “Tell me, _Jonathan_ … Does any of this feel familiar? A ghost of a half-forgotten memory, perhaps?” 

“The fuck you on about?!” Riggs coughed, just before Harry dragged him upright by his grip on his hair, the hand transferring to squeeze down harshly around the man’s throat.

“You won’t remember it, of course, but you attacked someone very dear to me in just such a way. You _hurt_ him, put your disgusting hands on him, _choked_ him…” He squeezed hard enough for Riggs’ face to turn almost purple, his eyes bulging out the slightest bit, before relenting his grip slightly.

“I’m _sorry_ , Jesus fuck!” He croaked out, twisting with his efforts to escape Harry’s restraining form.

“Not _yet_ , I’m afraid.” Harry growled lowly in his ear. “But I assure you, _you will be_.” Tiring of the game, Harry pushed the choking form into one of the walls, hooking the wide handle of his Rainmaker around the back of Riggs’ neck so as to drag his head down as Harry lifted a knee solidly into his face, feeling the cartilage of the man’s already crooked nose crumple easily under the force. 

“Where is the boy?!” 

“I don’ fuckin’ _know_!” The solid weight of the Rainmaker’s body colliding with Riggs’ stomach. 

“ _Where_?!”

“Fuckin’ _Christ_ , guv! He don’ tell me _nothin’_!” The mirror upon the wall shattering under the back of Riggs’ skull. 

“ _Tell me where my man is!_ ” 

“Alright, _alright!_ The toff’s got some fuckin’ mansion an hour or two’s drive from ‘ere – on the border o’ Tuscany and Umbria or some shit!” Dark satisfaction began to roil within Harry at the acquiescence.

“Where.”

“I… me mobile! I gots it on me fuckin’ mobile!” Holding Riggs pinned bodily to the sink, the shards of the shattered mirror digging into the back of the man’s head with every slight movement, Harry dug out the mobile for himself and waited impatiently for Riggs to bring up the information he required. _At last_. Pulling out his Kingsman pistol, he backed up slightly and aimed carefully at Riggs’ forehead whilst the broken man wheezed for breath. “Wha’…. Wha’ you doin’, guv? I told ya ev’rythin’ ya wanted!”

“Indeed you did, most helpful.”

“C’mon then… don’ you think you’ve roughed me up enough fer payback fer your friend?” Riggs’ tone was wheedling, a pathetic attempt to be convincing enough to save his own hide. 

“Perhaps it might have been. However, the moment that you _tore open his trousers_ , you sealed your death.” Harry snarled, finally letting his cold mask slip to show the absolute _fury_ that consumed him for what the trash before him had tried to do to Eggsy. 

Harry pulled the trigger.

* * *

_It hurts. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts!_

_Just bear it, Eggsy._

_It’ll be better. This is what you want._

* * *

Harry exited the toilet to find an empty pub, Lancelot sitting crossed-legged upon the bar inspecting her nails beside the unconscious form of the barkeep. 

“All done playing, Arthur?” She asked casually, frowning as she scratched at a small drop of blood that had dried upon her immaculate polish. 

“Quite.” He replied, reaching up to turn on his Kingsman glasses. “Merlin?”

“Yes, Arthur.”

“I need tactical gear for full infiltration of Michaelson’s villa arranged, as well as medical transport.” 

“Medical transport?” Merlin’s voice over the comms was wary.

“Merely a precaution. We have no idea what… what condition we are going to find him in.” Harry’s voice momentarily broke, the thought of Eggsy being brutalized almost too much for him to bear. 

“As you wish, Arthur.”

“And Merlin? If you intend to join us, I would do it _now_.”

“Of fucking _course_ I’m joining you – that’s _our_ bloody Excalibur they’ve got!”

* * *

_Make them pay._

_Make them pay for everythin’ they’ve ever done, Eggsy._

_Make them hurt, like you’ve hurt._

_Make them bleed, like you’ve bled._

_Make them regret ever clappin’ their fuckin’ eyes on ya._

_Make them regret it **all**._

* * *

“We should be to Michaelson’s villa in twenty minutes, Arthur.” Merlin’s hand clamped down on Harry’s shoulder, fingers twisting into the straps of the tactical gear that they’d all changed into. Retrieving Eggsy was not a matter for subtlety and _discretion_. 

It was a matter of righteous rage and _violence_. 

At Harry’s lack of response, Merlin dropped his hand to leave him to his thoughts. On the bench across from them, Roxy was sharpening deadly looking blades, the rhythmic movements appearing to soothe her into ignoring the fact that they were but moments away from jumping out of the airplane currently housing them. 

“Lancelot.” She looked up at Harry’s voice, expression firm with determination.

“I’ll make the jump, Harry.” She assured him, her tone brooking no argument. “I’ll do it for Eggsy.” He nodded his head, understanding fully what the words meant to her. 

“He’ll be very proud of you, Roxy.” He replied, before falling back into silence. 

_Please_ , he begged. _Please let him be alright._

* * *

_Make them **pay**._


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger Warning:** Canon-level depictions of gore / violence. But don't worry - it's all only aimed at the baddies this time.

Harry had expected a quiet infiltration of Michaelson’s villa, with the potential for it to devolve into a firefight upon their discovery; it was only the three of them – Harry, Merlin and Lancelot – but three Kingsman agents were more than enough to handle a mansion full of the enemy. Sofia had offered extra support, of course, but they had unanimously decided to refuse the help – this was _their_ Eggsy, _their_ Excalibur – he was _theirs_ to retrieve. 

Yes, Harry’d had certain expectations for how this venture was going to proceed. He shouldn’t have bothered.

They’d chosen to make their silent entrance at the back of the villa, each of them tensed in anticipation of discovery. The weight of the tactical gear was a reassuring comfort to Harry – full of pockets and harnesses for all methods of mayhem, far more than their usual Kingsman suits could provide. They were armed, and they were _ready_. 

But all in the villa was quiet – far _too_ quiet.

There was none of the usual noises for a building of that size: no footsteps of patrolling guards, no conversation and idle movement from support staff, not even the tinny sound of a television in the distance somewhere. There was only _silence_. 

“Arthur…” Merlin murmured lowly, an obvious note of wariness and unease in his tone that Harry felt as well.

“I know.” He replied simply, motioning for them to follow him to the door on their left. _Have to start searching somewhere._ Harry eased the door open a crack, leading with the nose of his pistol before following with his body; a quick sweep revealed that they’d found the villa’s kitchens, but a quietly in-drawn breath to their right had him swinging the gun around sharply. “ _Vieni fuori, lentamente!_ ” He demanded, before it occurred to him that Michaelson may have brought English staff with him. “Come out, _slowly_.” He reiterated in a slightly calmer tone. A small hand appeared from behind a preparation bench, followed gradually by what appeared to be the body of a young woman – certainly Italian by the look of her, and perhaps not much older than Lancelot. 

“Please…” She begged in heavily accented English. “No shoot!”

“Is there anyone else in here?” Harry asked, gentling his tone slightly but keeping his pistol aimed – one could not always trust a seemingly innocent face. The girl nodded her head warily, hands raised unthreateningly by her head.

“Just _mia madre_. She is old and no speak English, _signore_ – please, no shoot!” Harry nodded his acquiescence, lowering the pistol to be aimed at the floor but remaining tensed and ready should it prove to be a trick. The girl lowered her hands just as haltingly, turning to help an older woman to her feet whilst keeping a wary watch of the three agents from the corner of her eye. 

“We are looking for a young man, _un giovane uomo_. He was brought here against his will, kidnapped.” Harry explained, watching their expressions carefully. The older woman’s eyes widened at the Italian, the words ‘young man’ apparently being enough to spark a reaction. The answer in her native tongue flew out at such a rapid pace that even Harry was having a difficult time understanding her – he glanced toward the young lady for an explanation. 

“She say English boy come in when I bring the _signore_ his food. She say he covered in _sangue_ , in blood, but tell her he no hurt her. He tell her that she stay here and hide. She say he ask her for… uh, how you say? _Uova_.”

“Eggs?” Lancelot asked in surprise. 

“Are you certain that he didn’t say his _name_ was ‘Eggsy’?” Merlin asked, which the girl quickly translated to her mother. The older woman shook her head forcefully.

“She say he _ask_ her for _uova_. That he take from the _frigorifero_ over there.” She motioned toward the refridgerator, and Harry could see a couple of broken eggshells, their yolks discarded across the floor. He shared a puzzled glance with the others – _what in the bloody hell had he wanted eggs for?_ “ _Signore_ …” The girl called softly to gain Harry’s attention once again. “We hear, not so long ago, many screams and guns. Then all was quiet.” Her voice shook with fear, and the sick feeling that had been constant in Harry’s gut only became worse. 

“Cosimo,” He called into the communicator on his wrist, waiting for Sofia’s acknowledgement. “there are a mother and daughter in the kitchens of the villa; please inform the medical team to evacuate them upon arrival.” He turned his attention back to the young girl, her face showing relief mixed with fear. “Please keep yourselves hidden in here; more of our people will be coming in – they’ve been told to take you to safety, alright?” 

“ _Sì. Grazie, signore_.” The three agents headed back out into the corridor, the silence surrounding them seeming only more ominous. They cleared the mainfloor room by room, only drawing to a halt when they opened the door to what appeared to be a break room for the security staff.

“ _Christ…_ ” Lancelot breathed shakily. “It’s like Quentin Tarantino had a go in here, isn’t it?” The carnage was indescribable. Harry took a moment to close his eyes, trying to forcefully evict the memories of that hateful church from his mind – for the room they were looking at was nothing less than the same kind of single-minded wanton destruction. “Do you… do you think that _Eggsy_ did this?” Lancelot asked, sounding appalled. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Merlin answered her simply, and it was jarring enough for Harry to open his eyes again to look at his old friend in question. Seeming to read Harry’s expression, Merlin sighed dramatically and glanced at the ceiling as if asking for patience. “I know you lot tend to think of the lad as all sunshine and bloody fucking _rainbows_ , but dinna forget that this is the same man who thought nothing of sewing up his own wounds with _fishing line_ , who eliminated an _entire fucking bunker of enemies_ by himself in _one day_ , who smirked while watching a woman die from the _poison that he gave her_ , and whose kill-count as an active agent is nearly _triple_ that of even our dear _Arthur_. Just because he’s got a big heart doesna mean he’s any less _deadly_ , for fuck’s sakes.” 

Harry blinked. _Well, when you put it like that…_

“Moving on…” He murmured, turning to exit the room, hearing Merlin’s snort of laughter behind him. As they advanced further up the corridor, it began to look increasingly like something from a horror film – corpses of Michaelson’s underlings were strewn all about, and had obviously been dispatched with whatever had been closest at hand; Harry could pinpoint exactly when Eggsy had picked up a pistol from one of the fallen, as the scenery changed from a blood bath to the clean, execution-style shots that the young man had employed when fighting his way through Valentine’s bunker. The shear number of fatalities boggled the mind – it was clear that Eggsy had not seen fit to show mercy to any of his enemies. 

Harry might have worried about this, were it not for the fact that at one point in their search they came upon a bedroom that housed at least fifteen terrified – but very much _alive_ – figures. A quick conversation provided the intel that they were all simple staff employed solely for the running of the villa – cleaners, groundskeepers, wait staff. All people that were presumably _innocent_ – all spared the younger agent’s wrath for that fact, Harry was certain. They told of a young man, covered in blood, that ordered them to remain in the room for their safety; the news comforted Harry, as it assured him that despite the carnage they had been finding, Eggsy was still _Eggsy_. 

They didn’t pass a _single_ breathing enemy in the entire villa – it was unnerving, to say the least. 

Their search ended at what appeared to be Michaelson’s private study; on a normal day Harry would have taken in the details of the darkly decorated room before entering fully, but he found his attention quickly captured by the sight of a lone figure, standing motionless by the large windows with their back toward the doors. Relief washed over him as soon as his mind comprehended that Eggsy was the one standing there, _breathing_ and _alive_. 

“It’s just us, lad…” Merlin said carefully, entering the room behind Harry while he tried to swallow around the emotion clogging his throat. 

“I know.” The boy said softly, not turning around. “Saw you jump from the window.” Indeed, the view before them was of the same field where they had descended from their plane. “Good girl, Rox.” Lancelot’s choked laughter was watery and strained as she fought the tears welling in her eyes, but Harry’s initial relief was slowly dying with every word from the boy’s lips. 

Something was terribly wrong, he could _feel_ it.

Forcing himself to tear his eyes from Eggsy’s bare back, Harry quickly evaluated the rest of the room. His racing heart stilled for one awful moment as he noted the slumped figure in the desk chair, though that area of the room was dim enough that he couldn’t properly make out the details. Feeling his unease grow, he reached out blindly to slap at the wall beside the doors until he found a light switch. The ensuing sight was enough to make him almost wish he hadn’t. 

Michaelson’s slack and lifeless face greeted him, his form leaned heavily back in the plush leather desk chair. His hands had been tied to the arms of the chair with what appeared to be steel cabling of some kind, and his shirt had been torn open. His chest was covered in congealed blood, sharp slices that spelled out the words _bad dog_ cut harshly into the skin. Method of death was overwhelmingly obvious, as in his left temple – 

“Good lord, is that a _skinning knife_?!” Lancelot’s interjection was quiet, but horrified in tone, and Harry could see the muscles in Eggsy’s back clench with increased tension. The young man still hadn’t turned away from the windows to face them, and the dread that Harry felt only increased. Eggsy pointed backwards at a bundle in the middle of the room that looked rather like a curtain that had been tied with rope to form a makeshift bag. 

“Presents for Merlin.” He murmured quietly. Merlin and Harry shared a worried look before the Quartermaster warily made his way over to the bundle to open it. His eyebrows shot up in surprise before he tilted the bag to show the rest of them the various computer parts and technological equipment inside. 

“Merlin, Lancelot – our medical team should be onsite by now; if the two of you could oversee the extraction of the villa staff…?” They both nodded solemnly in acknowledgement, throwing last worried glances at Eggsy’s unmoving form before exiting the room. 

_Something is **deeply** wrong here._

“…Eggsy?” He called softly, taking a few more steps toward the centre of the room and closer to the boy himself. Eggsy appeared to tense some more, and Harry halted his movement instantly with a heavy heart. “Could you perhaps turn to face me, dearest?” 

_Please, Eggsy… Please be alright._

* * *

“Could you perhaps turn to face me, dearest?” 

Eggsy’s eyes closed, the soothing sound of Harry’s voice washing over him – Harry’s rich timbre that he hadn’t been certain he’d ever get the chance to hear again. Or, perhaps even _worse_ – that if he _did_ get to hear it again, that it would be filled with only fear or disgust for what he’d done, for the absolute fucking _slaughter_ that he’d left all over the villa. 

He’d been like a man possessed.

The hate and rage had burned beneath his skin, driving him onwards and urging him to make them _bleed_ , to make them _suffer_. He’d been practically mindless in his search for destruction, reduced down to some kind of feral _animal_ in his revenge. Finding Michaelson hiding – like the utter fucking _coward_ he really was – in his study had been the tipping point; he’d thought of everything the arsehole had put him through as a child, thought of everything that he’d done to all of those other kids who hadn’t been lucky like Eggsy, who’d never made it back home to their mums… He’d thought of it all, and he’d seen _red_. 

He hadn’t even realized what he’d done to the man until it was over. Until the haze in his head had cleared, and he’d seen just what kind of monster he was capable of being. 

“Eggsy, darling _please_ …” Harry’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts and back to the present, his tone positively _pleading_. Taking as deep a breath as he could manage with busted ribs, Eggsy steeled himself and turned. All of Harry’s breath appeared to _whoosh_ out of him, and he looked nothing short of fucking _devastated_ – for what reason, Eggsy was afraid to guess. Harry began to rush toward him, and Eggsy couldn’t stop himself from tensing all over again. Obviously seeing this, the older man stopped his momentum abruptly and practically looked like he wanted to _cry_. Eggsy had never seen Harry look like that before, it was unnerving.

“My dear, you _must_ believe… I would _never_ harm you, Eggsy.” He said sadly, and Eggsy frowned in confusion. _The fuck…?_

“… ‘course you wouldn’, Harry. I know that.” He answered slowly, watching as the older man swallowed harshly. 

“I… I would like very much to touch you, if that is alright.” Harry’s voice was so painfully _hesitant_. “But if you would prefer _not_ , then you need only to say.” Eggsy clenched his hands, feeling his throat closing up. 

“You shouldn’t.” He managed to choke out, and Harry’s face fell.

“Of course, my dear. Whatever you want.” Eggsy clenched his hands tighter, moving his eyes away from Harry’s face and down to the floor.

“I _do_ want ya to, Harry… but you _shouldn’t_.” Tears were beginning to sting at his eyes, the adrenaline finally fading and the stress and trauma from the day beginning to take their toll. _I can’t look him the eye, not after what I’ve done._

“Please explain, Eggsy.” The patient and kind tone was enough to break him.

“You shouldn’t _want_ to, Harry! You _saw_ what I did to all them people! I killed every last fuckin’ one o’ them! And to _him_ – ” Here he gestured toward the desk with a snarl. “I just fuckin’... _slaughtered_ all o’ them! I’m a fuckin’ _monster_ , Harry!” His breaths panted harshly at the end of his tirade, sharp pain passing through broken ribs with every inhale. From his gaze at the floor he could see Harry twitch in his peripheral, as though wanting to come closer but restraining himself. 

“Eggsy… Please look at me.” He shook his head, closing his eyes. He could hear the older man’s footsteps against the plush carpet, deliberately loud so that he wouldn’t startle Eggsy as he finally came closer. The whisper soft touch to his cheeks _did_ make him twitch in surprise, and Harry immediatley stilled his movement, though he didn’t remove his hands. When the younger man settled, he felt the slightest pressure beneath his jaw, encouraging him to raise his head. He found his eyes opening despite himself when Harry rubbed his thumbs softly across Eggsy’s cheekbones, the touch so gentle and perfect that he felt those fucking tears begin to spill over.

“You are _not_ a monster.” Harry said quietly, but insistantly. His dark eyes were determined, holding Eggsy’s own captive. “You saw what I did in Kentucky, did you not?” 

“That was diff’rent! You didn’ have no control over what you was doin’!” 

“One could make the argument that due to severe trauma – both physical and mental – neither did _you_. However, that aside, do you believe this circumstance to be different than your actions in Valentine’s bunkers on V-Day?” Eggsy frowned even harder, but let Harry continue to hold his face.

“Well… _yeah_.” He replied. “V-Day I had a _job_ ta do, I weren’t gonna let none o’ them stop me from it. This time I didn’ have no _purpose_ , I was just killin’ everythin’.” His voice waivered at the end, a few more tears sliping out over his cheeks, the salt stinging the cut that Michaelson had placed below his left eye. 

“You _did_ have a purpose,” Harry insisted, brushing the tears away with his thumbs. “it was given to you months ago at the start of this case – you are Excalibur, charged by Arthur to eliminate this threat. Which you have _done_ ; and, to speak plainly, I don’t care _fuck all_ about the method by which you accomplished your task, aside from how it has affected _you_. As to the second part of your statement, I think you’ll find it to be blatantly untrue.” Eggsy stared up at him in disbelief.

“Harry. You can’t twist yer way around this one – I _literally_ left corpses about the place.” 

“Though that may be true, you did not actually ‘kill everything’ – did you not tell the ladies in the kitchen to hide for their safety?”

“Well, yeah, but – ”

“And did you not do the same for the rest of the villa staff that were clearly uninvolved in Michaelson’s dirty business?”

“But they didn’ do nothin’ wrong! They wouldn’ve _deserved_ it!” Harry smiled at him kindly for his outburst.

“Precisely, my dear. You did not merely become some kind of killing _monster_ , though I do think that to a certain degree you were out of control of your actions; you were still _you_ – protecting those that were innocent, and dispatching those that were between you and your target. Just the same as V-Day.” Eggsy swallowed harshly, Harry’s faith in him almost too much for him to bear. 

“Dunno if I can make meself believe it…” 

“I think it’s well past time for you to have some appointments with our Psych team…” Harry murmured gently. 

“Merls tried ta get me to go… _before_ …” _Before you came back to me. Before you brought colour back into my life_. “But I didn’ want to talk to some _stranger_ about all that shit.” 

“Would you consider it? _Please_ , dearest?” He was so _earnest_ , so absolutely fucking _concerned_ , how could Eggsy possibly say ‘no’ to that?

“Yeah… alright.” Harry’s tenseness seemed to disappear at his agreement, his thumbs absentmindedly sweeping over Eggsy’s cheeks yet again. “Harry?” The younger man reached up, taking Harry’s wrists and drawing his hands down and away from his face. Harry didn’t resist the movement, though Eggsy thought his expression turned a bit sad. 

“Yes, my dear?” 

“I wanna do somethin’… But I don’ know if you’ll like it.” Harry blinked a bit in surprise and Eggsy steeled himself. _I swore if I ever got the chance again…_

“Anything, Eggsy. Anything you want.” Harry’s easy acceptance blew his mind a little bit, pausing him for only a moment before he gathered his courage back around him. Taking as deep a breath as he could painfully manage, he fisted bruised and bloodied hands into the straps at the front of Harry’s tactical gear, pulling the older man forward while he raised up onto his bare toes. 

The first touch of his lips to Harry’s own was equal parts relieving and terrifying – _that doesn’ even make fuckin’ sense_ – but the moment that Harry’s arms came around him, that one of his big hands cradled the back of Eggsy’s head gently while the other clutched his hip and tugged him further forward into the larger man’s body heat… well, then it felt like _coming home_. 

Harry made a rough noise, rumbling into Eggsy where their chests were pressed together before the arm about his back swept lower, pressing just below his arse and lifting him clear off his feet as Harry straightened up. Eggsy couldn’t help the startled noise that came out of him at the movement, breaking the kiss as he unconsciously swung his legs about Harry’s hips to help support his own weight. They were both panting slightly for breath, and Eggsy figured an elephant could have come charging through the room for all that they would’ve noticed as they stared each other in the eye. 

“Fuckin’ _hell_ , Harry…” He blurted out, mentally kicking himself immediately after for sounding like a gobsmacked _idiot_. 

“Quite.” Harry sounded just as shaken up – _Oh. Well that’s alright, then_. He shifted his grip slightly, settling Eggsy [more to his side at his hip](http://ozz1701.tumblr.com/post/123167214464/puppy-eggsyharry) before turning for the door, making the younger man blink in surprise.

“I can walk meself, you know.” He wasn’t angry over Harry carrying him, more like… _bemused_. The older man huffed a laugh, but made no move to put him down.

“Your right ankle is swollen and obviously sprained.” Harry’s tone was dryly amused, and Eggsy raised a brow. He wasn’t even gonna ask about when the other agent had taken the time to notice _that_. Sending Eggsy a rueful sort of half-smile, he continued with “I may also be reluctant to let you go, now that I have you. It’s been a rather _emotional_ day.” 

“That was fuckin’ _terrible_ , Harry.” He said with a laugh, focussing on the other man’s handsome face as they made their way through the corridors, rather than on the carnage still about. 

“Beg pardon, but I think rather _fondly_ about the first day we met.” Harry returned, and Eggsy couldn’t help but smile.

“Oh, yeah. All them _sweet_ things you said to me, like how I was a disappointment.” He replied with amusement, relishing the way that Harry winced. “Also, technically wasn’ the first time we met.” 

“To be fair, I knew next to nothing about your circumstances aside from what I’d seen in your criminal record; I didn’t fully realize the… _nature_ of the situation until that evening.” When he’d overheard fucking _Dean_ giving him what-for. “And I’ll rephrase to ‘the first time we met as adults’ then, if that’s more preferable.” Eggsy could feel some of the coldness seeping out of his chest, being replaced with warmth at Harry’s fond tone and proximity.

_It’s over. It’s **finally** fuckin’ over. _

Eggsy looped an arm over Harry’s shoulder, pressing his face in close to the older man’s neck and allowing himself to be carried, to be _cared for_. He was actually starting to dift off as they exited the villa to the drone of the medical transport, when Harry’s puzzled tone caught his attention.

“What did you want _eggs_ for?”

“The fuck you on about?” He murmured sleepily, not even bothering to open his eyes.

“The woman in the kitchen… she said you asked her for eggs?” The sheer mystification in Harry’s tone was too much for his already exhausted and shattered nerves.

Eggsy couldn’t help it – he laughed.


	20. Chapter 20

Harry was _deeply_ concerned.

Eggsy’s inexplicable laughter had been fraught with exhaustion and stress, cutting off quickly as the young man’s body finally gave in – just as they came upon the medical transport, he could feel Eggsy slump more heavily onto his shoulder, losing consciousness. Tightening his grip upon his precious cargo, Harry climbed into the back of the transport and quickly deposited the limp form onto a prepared gurney, reluctantly stepping to the side to allow one of Sofia’s doctors to examine the boy. All of the shifting and movement on the way out of the villa had obviously caused the filthy trackies he was clad in to ride lower, baring more of Eggsy’s exposed torso to sight. 

“What the bloody hell…?” Harry murmured, bending closer. Low on the young man’s abdomen, right where Michaelson’s hated brand had rested, there was a small raw patch where it appeared as though the skin had been torn away. _No_ , Harry corrected himself. _Not torn away – **cut** away… Did Eggsy remove the brand himself?_ Over top of the wound rested some kind of... _film_ , the like of which Harry couldn’t quite place.

“A smart one, your agent.” The doctor commented absently, gaining the older man’s attention.

“Beg pardon?” The doctor nodded toward the area that Harry had just been examining. 

“In an emergency, the membrane from the inside of an egg can be used to seal small wounds until one is able to get help. Your agent is a quick thinker, _signore_.” Harry’s eyes shot to Eggsy’s unconscious face, amazement for the ingenuity filling him, before the mixed rage and sadness took over – for how many times had the boy been forced to employ such a thing as a child? On how many occasions had that utter _cock_ of a step-father pressed a knife to Eggsy’s skin, leaving him to bleed and find his own ways to heal? Harry sat himself heavily on a small bench beside the gurney, just behind the young man’s head. 

_How is it possible for one soul to suffer so much, and still be so inherently **good**?_

There were many reasons why Harry loved the young man, _desperately_ – Eggsy was strong, determined, unflinchingly _loyal_. He was kind, loving, and so fucking sweet that it made Harry want to tuck him away from anything that could _possibly_ hurt such a beautiful creature; he was soft but he wasn’t _weak_ – in all his years, Harry had never known someone as fierce as Eggsy who hadn’t lost their softness along with it. Coming from the background that he had, it would have been completely reasonable for the young man to have emerged from his life jaded, bitter, and full of hatred – but he _hadn’t_. There was _anger_ over his previous circumstances, of _course_ there was, but on the whole Eggsy had left the Estate a dedicated and _good_ man. 

And for some _completely_ unknown reason, Eggsy had turned his affections to _Harry_. 

Now, Harry knew that he didn’t always have the _healthiest_ opinion about himself, and especially not after his actions in Kentucky – he was _aware_ of this, and the Kingsman team of psychologists were still helping him work on that. But no matter how positively he tried to look at the situation, he just couldn’t fathom what it was that the young man had seen in him to be _worthy_ of his devotion. 

And he _was_ devoted – Harry knew that now. When given the option to survive into the new world, Eggsy had said that he’d _rather be with Harry_. He’d killed in Harry’s name, in revenge or retribution for his supposed death. The young man had spiraled into a depression the likes of which Harry had never personally confronted, all because Harry had ‘died’ – the changes to the vibrant personality that he’d known during Eggsy’s training had been nothing short of devastatingly shocking; it had been as if a ghost had taken the boy’s place, a shadow of his former self haunting the mansion’s grounds. _All because Harry had left him_. 

Eggsy had given himself up – to an absolute _monster_ from his childhood, no less – without hesitation, all for the sake of saving Harry from yet another bullet to the head. He’d endured torture and god only knew what else, _all for Harry_. But what he really couldn’t understand was _why_? What had he done to earn the young man’s love and loyalty? 

He’d brought him to Kingsman, given him the opportunity to go through training, but it had been _Eggsy’s_ skills and determination that had gotten him so far – Harry’d hardly had anything to do with that. In fact, he’d been unconscious in a bed for half of it. The same could be said for Eggsy’s actions on V-Day, his ‘alternative’ final test – Harry’d been ‘dead’ for the whole thing, it wasn’t as if he’d had anything to do with the boy earning his place. 

And if not for some kind of opportunity, what else could there possibly be to attract Eggsy? Harry was decently fit for his age, he had enough pride in himself to recognize _that_ – but that didn’t detract from the fact that he was nearly _twice_ the young man’s own years. Eggsy was young, wickedly intelligent, and beautiful – he could go _anywhere_ , have _anyone_ he wanted. He was fit, and mind-meltingly flexible in ways that Harry had to constantly resist examining in his thoughts when he was supposed to be reading budget reports. When Harry had first realized the depths of his feelings, had first acknowledged the low-burning _want_ in his gut, the age difference between them hadn’t seemed such a problem – it wasn’t an issue, because Harry had been convinced that the young man would _never_ want him in such a way. 

He’d expected to fulfill the role of _mentor_ to Eggsy while he was in training; he’d tried to keep himself to that role through lessons of etiquette, weapons, or spycraft. When he’d awoken from his _first_ coma, the Kingsman medical staff had wasted no time in informing him that his _sweet_ candidate had sat at his bedside at _every_ free opportunity, and Harry had reevaluated his viewpoint of their relationship with the news – clearly the boy had seen him as _more_ than merely a ‘mentor’ if he’d been so concerned about Harry’s waking up, so the older man had reluctantly accepted the fact that perhaps Eggsy had begun to see him as some sort of _father-figure_. The notion had been particularly torturous to Harry given his burgeoning romantic interest, but if that was the kind of thing that Eggsy required from him, then Harry had been more than willing to press his own feelings aside in order to give the young man what he needed. 

Discovering that Eggsy’s own feelings had been decidedly more in line with Harry’s than previously expected meant that the non-issues of their ages and the fact that Harry was now his _superior_ had abruptly become _very big issues_. Unable to help himself, Harry ran a gentle hand over Eggsy’s hair, leaving it to cradle the top of his head while the transport swayed into motion. 

“Arthur?” The doctor’s voice gained his attention, but Harry found that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the boy’s poor, battered face. 

“Hmm?”

“Would you like a status report, _signore_?” 

“Yes, _grazie_.” 

“Agent Excalibur has suffered multiple fractures to his ribs, these will take some weeks to heal fully. The sprain on his right ankle is not so bad – wrappings for a week or so. Many lesions over his face and torso – most of which are fairly shallow – though I was required to suture the more pressing ones. The missing skin on his abdomen is going to leave a bad scar, but I believe it should heal without many problems; he was fast with sealing it with the egg membrane, which will only benefit him in the end. Minor fractures to his hands. The lesions from whatever it is that his wrists were bound with worry me, though – the cuts are deep, _signore_.”

“What do you suggest?” Nausea swirled in Harry’s stomach at every injury that was listed; the fact that the boy had survived such an ordeal – let alone gone on to fight off an entire villa’s worth of enemies – was nothing short of _miraculous_. 

“At least the night in a bed at our branch, _signore_. I highly suggest not putting him on an airplane for hours yet – his body is going to need time to recover before it will be able to handle the movement.” Harry nodded in acquiescence, knowing the wisdom of the advice despite his desperate want to get Eggsy home to England. 

“Thank you, doctor.”

* * *

Eggsy came-to with that particular kind of floating feeling that meant the _good_ drugs.

He took a moment before opening his eyes to evaluate his surroundings – the beeping of a heart monitor and the smell of antiseptic immediately screaming _hospital_ , but it took him a minute or two for his brain to catch up. He remembered it all in flashes; the gun pointed at Harry’s head, leaving with Michaelson, the pain and blood and breaking free… only to unleash unholy rage upon those inside the villa. Gathering tech for Merlin, the sound of the airplane overhead and the sight of three dark figures descending from the sky. 

And _Harry_.

Harry finding him in the study, telling him he’d done good, that he _wasn’t_ a monster. Harry calling him _dearest_ and _darling_ and gathering up all of his courage.

_Kissing Harry_. 

Jesus fucking _Christ_ he’d actually found the bollocks to _kiss Harry_. And maybe most unbelievable of all – Harry’d fucking _kissed him back_. 

Eggsy ran over it again in his mind; the feeling of being pressed to Harry’s chest, his big hands gripping him tightly while he tasted him for the first time. Being surrounded in Harry’s scent of _sandalwood amber warmth_ that had always meant comfort and safety, tasting the sharp tang of whiskey on his tongue and hearing the low wanting noises coming from his throat that Eggsy’d only ever thought he’d hear in his dreams. Being held, touched, and _wanting_ it – wanting _more_ of it, even. 

Eggsy opened his eyes.

The lights in the room were dim, which he appreciated – he knew from past experience that waking to a blindingly bright room after being knocked about the head a few times was no fucking treat. He slowly turned his head, taking in the sight of Merlin and Roxy both fast asleep on a small bench just off to the right of the foot of his bed, Rox’s head slumped onto Merlin’s shoulder and the Quartermaster snoring softly. _Wish I had me mobile – that’s blackmail worthy, that is_. Continuing his visual journey, he realized that the rail on the right side of his bed was lowered. Turning his head a bit more took some concentration, but in the end was totally worth the effort.

Harry was leaned forward in his chair, his upper body sprawled onto the mattress beside Eggsy’s hip. He was back into one of his suits, the jacket discarded onto the back of the chair and the dark leather of his shoulder holsters looking like they were digging in painfully. A discontent frown was crumpling his brow, even in sleep, and his hands were loosely encompassing one of Eggsy’s own. He couldn’t stop the rush of love that swept through him at the sight, even if he’d wanted to. Easing his hand out from between Harry’s, he haltingly lifted it in order to run his fingers softly through the older man’s hair; Harry twitched awake almost immediately – like any _good_ spy should, honestly – and Eggsy felt a moment’s regret that he’d disturbed him. He could _hear_ Harry’s back pop painfully as he straightened up, and he winced in sympathy.

“Eggsy!” The older man breathed in a hushed sigh of relief, leaning forward again almost immediately and reaching out to grab, before abruptly halting the movement and looking uncertain. _You’re a good man, Harry_. 

“C’mere, you.” Eggsy murmured, making grabby hands at him until the older man huffed a small laugh and rose to sit on the edge of the bed. With Harry closer, it was a small thing to reach out and wrap the dark navy silk tie around his hand, pulling slightly until Harry obligingly leaned down. Their faces were a mere inch apart when the older man made a concerned noise, suddenly resisting closing the distance.

“You’re injured, my dear.” 

“Don’ matter.” 

“Of _course_ it matters, Eggsy.” Harry said chidingly, and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “I would not cause you further harm, not for _any_ reason.” He could feel his stupid heart melt all the more at the insistance, but he’d gone _ages_ with not kissing Harry – now that he knew he _could_ he weren’t gonna be the fool that didn’t make the most of it. 

“Harry,” He began firmly, but with some amusement. “I’ve had me a _real_ shit day, love. One fucking kiss ain’t gonna hurt me much, but it’ll sure as fuck make me _feel better_ , ya get me?” The amusement fell away at the older man’s continued hesitance. “Unless… unless you don’ wanna anymore?” He swallowed heavily at the thought that maybe with some time to think, Harry’d changed his mind. He immediately let go of his hold on the tie, drawing his hand back down to his own chest. If Harry didn’t want to, Eggsy wasn’t ever gonna be the kind of arsehole that would _force_ him to do something like that. 

He was jerked out of his thoughts by the broken noise that Harry made, warm hands suddenly cupping his face gently as the older man closed the distance between them. The kiss was much the same as the first one had been – a little bit rushed, a little bit desperate, but still by and far the sweetest fucking thing that Eggsy’d ever had in his life. It was an easy thing to open up to Harry, to take in the taste of him like it was the finest fucking wine and all he ever wanted was _more_. His hands wandered on their own, sliding back up over the soft material of Harry’s shirt before fisting into his starched collar and hanging on for dear life as his head swirled. He absentmindedly arched his back, wanting to get closer to the heat of the larger form blanketing him, only to break the kiss with a hiss of pain as his injuries made themselves known despite the meds coursing through him.

“Alright?” Harry asked – a bit breathlessly, Eggsy noted with pride. 

“I… yeah. Sorry.” He replied, only for the older man to raise a brow in question.

“I hardly think _you’re_ the one that should be apologizing at the moment.” Harry’s expression gentled, his thumb swiping lightly across Eggsy’s cheekbone, just below the stitched cut under his eye. “Concentrate on healing, so that we can go _home_. All else can be discussed later, my dear.” Exhaustion pulled heavily at him, making his eyes want to drop closed, but there was something he needed first. 

“Harry, can I ask ya fer somethin’?” 

“Of course, Eggsy. Anything.” 

“Come lie with me? Like we done at home...” He couldn’t quite keep the tone of pleading from his voice, but he knew if Harry said ‘no’ that he wouldn’t push it. Harry sighed slightly.

“Are you even able to shift over without harming yourself?” 

“That a challenge?” Despite his glib reply, Eggsy immediately started easing himself to his left in order to make a bit of room for the larger man on the narrow bed. Sighing some more, Harry nevertheless carefully toed off his Oxfords and unknotted his tie, slipping the first few buttons of his shirt free of their moorings. The shoulder holsters found a home on the small table next to the bed, in easy reach should the agent need them, and Harry _finally_ slipped himself beneath the thin blankets. Given Eggsy’s injuries, he remained flat on his back while Harry curled himself around his right side, stealing Eggsy’s pillow while the shorter man leaned his head into Harry’s chest.

“Eggsy?” He heard Harry murmur quietly, just as he was about to drift off.

“Hmm?” 

“I love you, _terribly_.” A smile bloomed across his lips, warmth swelling within him. 

“I love you too, Harry.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger Warning:** Please see author's notes at the end of the story for details.

“We need to have a serious word, Arthur.” 

“Indeed we do, Merlin – though I feel as though we’re speaking of different things.” The Quartermaster nodded his head gravely, trusty clipboard clenched within his hands as always. “Shall we begin with whatever matter is on your mind?” 

“As you wish, Sir.” Here the dour Scotsman hesitated. “And where might our Excalibur be, at the moment?” Harry raised a brow, uneasiness beginning to creep in; he tugged absentmindedly on his shirtsleeves to straighten them, standing up taller subconsciously.

“He’s in the Psychiatric ward for his appointment with Gaius, presently.” In the month that they’d been back on British soil, Harry had ensured that Eggsy was seeing their lead psychiatrist in amongst his physical therapy appointments for his many injuries. He never asked for details of Eggsy’s sessions, knowing that whatever was discussed was for the young man alone. If Eggsy decided he wanted to share, then Harry would _by all means_ be more than willing to listen; however he wanted the younger agent to know this was solely for _him_ – that Harry would never use his position of Arthur to violate such trust by demanding to be kept informed without his consent. 

“Then this is the perfect time for this discussion.” Merlin’s voice was calmly professional on the surface, but after all their years of friendship Harry could hear the low-burning anger buried beneath it, and his uneasiness only increased with the response. The monitors in front of them lit up suddenly with a plethora of files, far too many for Harry to parse without taking more time. “The tech that Eggsy gathered for me included Michaelson’s hard drives and _decades_ worth of archived information – it’s been quite a lot to be going through, but very advantageous for us in the end.” 

“I would imagine that a great deal of Michaelson’s information will ultimately be useful to us.” Merlin nodded in agreement, as he seemed to open up a prompt box on the screen. 

“As I was going through some of it, I found these.” The anger was back in Merlin’s tone, and Harry prepared himself for what may be about to come on the screen.

He wasn’t prepared _enough_. 

Harry could feel his hands clench in helpless rage as dozens of black-and-white photographs appeared across the monitors, each featuring a terrified looking child; he recognized every one of the faces, all of the children that he had failed to save when his initial investigation all those years ago had ended with only more questions. All of the photographs bore a matching theme – all of the frightened subjects had bare chests, and on every single one of them there were the words _bad dog_ written in what appeared to be permanent marker pen. 

Harry’s mind flashed back to when they’d first come upon Eggsy in Michaelson’s study, those very same words carved into the man’s bared chest. A part of him felt viscious satisfaction that such a monster had endured a taste of his own medicine, whilst the larger part of him worried over the very real psychotic break that Eggsy’s actions that day represented. _He’s been getting help, he’ll be alright. We’re doing everything we can to help him process it all and heal._

“We’re getting rid of the fucking dog test.” Harry felt ashamed of himself, now that he had a clearer picture – Eggsy’s adoration for his ridiculous mutt, his blow up at Merlin over the words _bad dog_ , his absolute inability to pull the trigger on JB. Here was a man who as a child had been treated like a ‘pet’, been told that he was going to be killed for being a ‘bad dog’, and they’d handed him a gun and expected him to shoot his own – and what had Harry done when he’d failed to do so? Berated him. Told him he’d thrown his chance away ‘over a fucking dog’. _If only I had **known**._ But that was no excuse, was it? Harry shouldn’t have been so harsh with him that day, regardless. 

“Always did think that test was stupid.” Merlin agreed, startling him out of his thoughts. “There was one other photograph; it wasn’t kept with all of these, it was in a folder of it’s own.” When Harry raised a brow in question, the many images upon the screens were instead replaced with only one. 

Eggsy’s face had changed since the age of eleven, but not enough to make the young boy staring back at him from the monitor unrecognizable. Like the other children, his chest was bared to the camera; _unlike_ the others, there were no words written upon him, only a faint smear of what might have been an aborted attempt with the marker pen. The Kingsman medal that Harry had given him so long ago rested against the bared skin, and he felt a momentary sadness for the loss of it – he had the medal upstairs in his office, tucked away in one of his desk drawers awaiting a new chain from which to hang, but in the past month Harry had found himself unable to do so. 

Every time he glanced at the thing, he remembered only Michaelson ripping it from Eggsy’s neck and tossing it at his feet; he remembered only the absolute _devastation_ that was losing the young man to such a nightmare. 

Unlike the other children, Eggsy’s young face showed no trace of tears or even fright. Instead, the boy looked _fierce_ , as though ready to tear the very world down around him. It was so characteristically _Eggsy_ – to be defiant and strong where others would crumple in their fear. A trait that had never left him, it would seem. A sharp inhale of breath from behind them had both Harry and Merlin whirling around, obviously too lost in their own thoughts to have heard the doors opening. 

Michelle stood beside her son, hands clasped over her mouth and wide _horrified_ eyes locked on the screen. Eggsy’s face was terrifyingly blank. 

“Merlin.” Harry said sternly, as the Quartermaster was already raising his clipboard to make the image disappear. 

“No.” It was if even the very air in the room drew to a halt in the wake of Eggsy’s firm voice, all of them pausing in their actions as Harry held his breath. “Leave it.” The young man took slow steps closer to the monitors, his eyes moving restlessly over the screens before him. It seemed like silence reigned for an age before the young man’s voice once again broke it. 

“You saved me that day, Harry.” It was a plain statement of fact, and the older man felt himself blink in confusion.

“I… I don’t understand.” Eggsy’s arms came up to cross tightly in front of his chest, his body language withdrawn and defensive even as his voice remained calm.

“I never told you lot how I got ‘way from him back then, did I?” Indeed, he hadn’t – though Harry had frequently caught himself wondering. Michelle walked a few paces closer, stopping herself a step or two behind the young man’s shoulder, as though wanting to comfort but not daring to touch. “He sets up this old camera, right. Tells me he’s gonna take me picture for his _collection_ – comes at me with the marker pen, yeah? Only I’d more than hit me limit for him doin’ things I didn’ like… So I bite the _fuck_ outta his hand when he tried ta write.” Harry’s eyes jerked back to the photograph, feeling equal parts rage and pride in the little boy he saw there for attempting to defend himself. 

“He gets back behind his camera, fussin’ with the dials and whatever, and I start thinkin’ to meself that that’s the fuckin’ end – that he were gonna kill me and there weren’t gonna be nothin’ else fer me. I started thinkin’ that maybe wouldn’ be so bad if I just let him, since he’d already ruined me.” Harry’s stomach dropped at the statement, unable to comprehend an Eggsy that would give in so easily. “Mum had Dean, yeah? And he weren’t such a right bastard to _her_ yet – figured it was just _me_ he hated. Figured maybe if I weren’t around maybe he’d be nicer to her.” Michelle gave an audible sob, hands coming up to once again press tightly over her mouth as tears begain to trail over her flushed cheeks. 

“So there I was, ready to just let him do whatever he was gonna do, and for some _fuckin’_ reason me brain decides to latch onto the way the room _smells_. It didn’ make no sense, but I figure maybe I was just lookin’ fer somethin’ to focus on, yeah? All I could smell was blood, and his rank fuckin’ cologne, and… other things.” It didn’t take a particular genius to know what had gone on in the room previous to the picture-taking, and to what ‘other things’ was meant to reference. Harry’s hands clenched harder, his short nails cutting harshly into his palms. 

“And then the damndest thing happened…” The young man continued musingly. “There I were, so set on the way ev’rythin’ _smelled_ , and fer some fuckin’ reason that made me think o’ _you_ , Harry.” The older man could feel himself startle in surprise. _What?_ Eggsy finally turned his attention away from the image of his younger self on the screen, facing Harry with a complicated expression. 

“Did you know that you’ve got like, this certain _scent_? It was one o’ the only things I remembered abou’ ya after that day you come to the flat to tell us about dad – I remembered that the kind man who come seen us smelled _warm_ and nice-like. It ain’t never changed, neither… You still smell like that, Harry.” A small smile tilted briefly at the corner of Eggsy’s lips, before falling back into seriousness. “When I was a kid, it made me think of bein’ _safe_ – which, I know is sort of _mental_ , considerin’ I ain’t even really known you back then.” The last bit was said in a bit of a rush, as though the young man was perhaps embarrassed by the sentiment. 

“Anyways,” He went on after clearing his throat. “there I were thinkin’ about how rank the room smelled, and I suddenly remember this kind man what knew me dad, and how you’d smelled nice and like _safety_ – and suddenly I’m getting right _pissed_ , yeah? Like how was it fair that I were gonna die without ever gettin’ ta see that man again? And wouldn’ it be breakin’ me promise to take care o’ mum if I just up and let him do me in? So’s I got angry… Think it startled the bastard a bit, actually. Like he weren’t expectin’ me to keep fightin’ back – I remember jumpin’ at him, screamin’… Knocked him back, and I guess he weren’t really ready fer it. He hit his head on somethin’ behind him, don’ really remember what, just remember him fallin’ ta the floor out cold. Remember grabbin’ me shirt off the floor and jumpin’ from the window.” Here Eggsy let out a slight laugh, startling the rest of them in the room. 

“That’s actually how I started doin’ all the parkour – I buggered up me ankle a bit jumpin’ from the window that night. One day a little while afterwards I see these older boys doin’ all these jumps and speedin’ through the air, and I think to meself _Ain’t nobody be able to catch me again if I could move like that_. Always felt free as a fuckin’ bird when I was runnin’ round like that – didn’ want to be trapped by nobody ever again.” Eggsy gave his head a bit of a shake, having obviously lost himself in his thoughts. 

“So you see, Harry? _That_ – ” Here the young man turned to point at the image still on the screen, the ferocious expression on the little boy’s face taking on new meaning. “That was because of you. I found a reason – as absolutely fuckin’ _ridiculous_ of one as it mighta been – to fight back, to get meself outta there, because of _you_. I didn’ give up because of _you_. You saved me that night, Harry.” The older man’s tight fists unclenched, tensed shoulders slumping as his throat closed with choked-down emotion. 

“You’re always savin’ me.” Eggsy murmured and Harry shook his head hard.

“No, Eggsy.” He said gently, watching as the young agent’s brows creased in confusion. “You’re always saving _yourself_.” Harry held his hands out before him, an open invitation. “And I’m so _very_ proud of you, my dear.”

* * *

Eggsy glanced down at the floor, letting Harry’s words wash over him for a blissful moment. 

“Harry?” He asked tentatively, refusing to lift his head but reaching out slowly to take one of the older man’s hands, hesitantly twining their fingers together. “Do ya think Gaius could see me again? …Like, _right now_?” He swallowed harshly. “I know I was just there, but…” Harry’s fingers squeezed down around his own in reassurance, and Eggsy let out a slow breath.

“Of course he will, I’ll make sure of it.” 

“Harry?”

“Yes, my dear?” 

“Thanks.” Finally looking back up, he could feel himself warming at the soft look on the other man’s face. Giving one last squeeze to Harry’s fingers, Eggsy turned sharply to exit the room, pausing only to give his mum a kiss on her forehead; he knew he should probably be sticking around to see if she was alright, but he felt like if he didn’t get the fuck out of there and away from that picture that he was gonna lose it. _Merlin and Harry’ll take care o’ her anyways_. He practically ran his way back to the Psychiatric ward that he’d only just left, feeling his breath catch in his chest and praying that he didn’t have some kind of panic attack right there in the middle of the hallway.

“Excalibur. I’ve just gotten off the phone with Arthur.” Gaius didn’t even bat an eye as Eggsy burst through his office door, one brow raised and his weathered old face drawn into stern and disapproving lines. “I know we talked about facing your past, but I’m afraid my dear boy that I did not mean for you to do it quite so _literally_.” A choked laugh came out of him as he all but threw himself down into one of the old man’s plush armchairs. 

“Weren’t intentional, swear down.” Gaius studied his face for a quiet moment, before sighing heavily and reaching up to take off the old-fashioned spectacles that he used for reading. 

“Let’s handle this one a little more _informally_ , shall we?” He asked as he set his notebook and pen to the side. 

“Yeah, sure. Good.” 

“Tell me what’s bothering you the most, my boy.” Eggsy squirmed a bit in his seat.

“Dunno.” Gaius sighed heavily once again, giving him a reproachful look. 

“Of course you do.”

“How much did Harry tell you? ‘bout what happened just now?” 

“Arthur explained to me that you walked in while they were reviewing Michaelson’s documents, that there was an image of you from that night upon the screen. That you had explained to them how you escaped, though he didn’t give me details.” Eggsy snorted.

“You already know them anyway, so’s don’ really matter, yeah?” 

“I know them because _you_ told me, Eggsy. Harry is unaware of what we discuss while you are here for your appointments, so I assume he was attempting to protect your privacy as much as possible while still remaining helpful to the situation as a whole.” Eggsy could feel his heart melt just a little bit at that. “So I’ll ask again, what is bothering you the most about the situation?”

“It’s just…” He picked a bit at the bandages still circling his wrists in his nervousness. “I told them ‘bout the thing – the scent thing. Weren’t really thinkin’ much at the time, but… Well, it’s fuckin’ _weird_ , right?” 

“We’ve already discussed the fact that when under serious trauma and stress the brain can latch onto seemingly nonsensical things; you _know_ that this is normal, Eggsy. There is nothing ‘weird’ about it at all. What’s _really_ bothering you about it?” Gaius leaned back further in his seat, and Eggsy squirmed a bit more.

“It’s stupid…”

“ _Eggsy_.” He let out a sigh at the old man’s insistent tone. 

“It’s just… I’m waitin’ for the day Harry realizes how totally _fucked_ I am. When he ain’t gonna want me no more.” He blew out a harsh breath, raising his hands to rub over his hair. “I sound like a fuckin’ _preteen_ , fuckin’ _Christ_.” Gaius chuckled dryly at the comment.

“It’s an entirely natural thing for someone in your situation to be concerned about, my boy.” Eggsy looked up at him, a bit surprised that the old man didn’t seem to think he was acting ridiculous.

“…it is?”

“Of course. You’ve spent a significant amount of your life dealing in harshness and loss – from your father’s death leaving you at such a young age, to your mother’s harmful relationships, your experience with Michaelson, growing up with your step-father, as well as Harry’s supposed death. _All_ of these are instances where things were taken away from you – your father, your mother’s time and attention, your bodily autonomy, your independence, and lastly Harry himself. With such a history, it’s entirely natural that one of your biggest fears is that any good thing you have in your life will be _taken away_ ; this is not a childish thing to be concerned about, especially when one considers that you’ve had no form of counselling in dealing with all of these matters until recent days.” 

“…huh.” Eggsy blinked a bit, not having really considered it all from that angle before. 

“I’m getting the impression that this fear of losing Harry of his own volition is perhaps not unique to this morning’s events.” The old man continued. “Can you try to identify for me where you think it comes from? Why do you feel as though _Harry_ would be the one to walk away?”

“Well it’s obvious, innit?” He blurted out before even properly thinking on it. 

“Clearly not.” Gaius said dryly, and Eggsy rolled his eyes before slumping back in his seat a bit. 

“Harry’s so… _Harry_. He’s all gentlemanly and shit, and fit as _hell_ , and he’s carin’ and just so fuckin’ _good_. And I know that there ain’t no such thing as some perfect person, alright? ‘Cos he’s also got a _real_ fuckin’ short fuse on his temper, and he maybe drinks a bit too much, and for such a smart bloke he can be _real fuckin’ oblivious_ sometimes. He cares more about people than he thinks he does, and he takes all this shit on his shoulders that ain’t really his fault, and I can’t for the fuckin’ _life of me_ understand what I’ve got that’s made him think he wants it.” 

“We’ve talked before about how our opinions of ourselves are usually incredibly skewed.”

“I know.” 

“So then, perhaps this: you tell me the reasons that you think Harry might want to leave you, and I will provide an outsider’s rebuttal, if I can.” Eggsy studied Gaius’ face, drawn into stern and serious lines. 

“Yeah, alright.” He took a deep breath. “I ain’t some posh thing like him. Just from the gutter, me.” 

“I do believe that Harry himself has told you that such a thing has no bearing upon a person’s worth. That aside, Harry has always held the working class in much higher regard than others, and has always been _incredibly_ vocal about it.” Eggsy’s lips twitched a bit, remembering the comment about _weak chins_ that he’d seen in Galahad’s old footage after Harry’s ‘death’. “Next?”

“I ain’t all that smart, neither.” At this Gaius snorted in a very undignified manner.

“You had the highest scores on the written test that Kingsman as _ever_ seen, higher than even Harry himself. Don’t be foolish, my boy.”

“I didn’ know a pug from a bull dog.” Eggsy returned dryly, and the old man rolled his eyes. 

“And I didn’t know how to properly cook boxed pasta until I was almost thirty-seven,” Gaius replied. “we _all_ have areas where we’re less knowledgeable than others.” Eggsy huffed a laugh, but turned serious once again quickly.

“I’m almost half his age.” 

“Does such a thing bother you? The fact that Harry is so much older?” 

“What? No!”

“One wouldn’t blame you, given your past experiences.” 

“It ain’t like that.” Eggsy insisted, leaning forward in his seat sharply. “People is just people, I ain’t never really cared what they looked like or any o’ that – I mean, I can appreciate a fit looking bloke or bird, yeah. But that ain’t meanin’ nothin’ to me if they ain’t a good _person_ … And let’s just say I weren’t really around many good people growin’ up.”

“So then what is it in particular that makes you mention the age difference, if not for the fact that it bothers _you_?”

“Because what if it bothers _him_? I’m half his fuckin’ age – what if he wakes up one day and just thinks to himself _What the fuck am I doin’ with this immature wanker?_ ” 

“Has Harry ever treated you as though significantly younger or immature?” Eggsy gave the question due thought before answering. 

“Maybe a bit, in the beginnin’ when I was still just his candidate. He ain’t done it since he came back, I don’ think.”

“Could this not be an indication that despite the age difference, Harry views you as equal to himself in this circumstance? That he sees you as just as much an ‘adult’ as he is himself?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” He murmured, mulling the thought over in his mind. 

“Is there more?” Gaius asked after a quiet moment, and Eggsy swallowed hard while he tried to find the words to voice his biggest fear in this whole clusterfuck.

“Sex.” He finally choked out, not knowing how else to start the topic. Gaius let out a quiet _hmm_ as he eyed Eggsy seriously. 

“There is nothing about you that is ‘ruined’, my boy. And I am absolutely certain that Harry would agree with me in this respect.” 

“No, I… I know. You and me’s been talkin’ about that, and I been tryin’ ta get it through me head, yeah? It’s not – it’s not that, not really.” He took a slow breath, picking again at his bandages while he tried to put some order to his thoughts. “It’s just… I been makin’ good progress with the whole _touchin’_ thing, right. And I been thinkin’… Well I been thinkin’ that I maybe want to try? If Harry wants to?” He could feel his cheeks burning with the embarrassment that was talking about his potential sex life wih a man old enough to be his _grandfather_. To his credit, a quick peek at Gaius’ face showed no amusement, only that he was seriously listening.

“What do you feel is your greatest concern, here?”

“I guess I’m worried that… that we’ll get to it and in the middle o’ it I’ll not want it no more. That it’ll be too much like – well. I can make meself do it if I _have_ to, I done it before… Just don’ want it ta be like that with him.”

“Do you think that Harry would press you to continue if you changed your mind?” Eggsy’s head jerked up sharply.

“ _No!_ Harry wouldn’ _never_ do somethin’ like that!” Gaius cut him off before he could work himself up to a proper strop.

“The fact that you know this and have trust in it is very healthy, Eggsy. Now let me ask you this: how do you think you forcing _yourself_ to continue, despite being uncomfortable, would make Harry feel?” Eggsy deflated back into his seat once again.

“It’d make him upset.” He said with certainty. Because it _would_ – Harry would be devastated if they shared something like that and he found out later that Eggsy hadn’t liked it. 

“So then what logical conclusion can we draw here?” 

“That if I _do_ try to get a leg over and change me mind halfway through, I should be honest and speak up.” Gaius raised a judgmental eyebrow at his terminology, but nodded his head approvingly regardless. 

“Precisely. I do believe that should such a thing come to pass, Harry would be able to handle the situation just fine.” 

“But… But what if I ain’t _never_ gonna be able to do it?” He burst out. “What he gets tired of never bein’ able to get some and decides to leave ‘cos o’ that?” The old man was back at it again with the eyebrows. “You must be a _terrifyin’_ grandad.” 

“Alas, I never married.” 

“S’alright, guv. You can be _my_ grandad.” The barest hint of a smile twitched at the corner of Gaius’ mouth, but he sobered soon enough.

“Stop avoiding the topic at hand, Eggsy.” Eggsy sighed, but made a _Go on, then_ motion with his hand regardless. “I will be honest with you, my boy – you may find that you are never able to find enjoyment in sexual contact; this is a very real result of your kind of trauma, and does not make you any _less_ because of it. Now, as to the concept that Harry might one day end your relationship _because_ of such a thing… My ‘professional’ answer would be to discuss the matter with him yourself, prior to any _attempts_ that you may make, and no matter how embarrassing a topic you may find it to be.”

“And your ‘unprofessional’ answer?” 

“The same, only with this personal observation added on: the Harry that I’ve known for the last thirty years would continue to love you the same as he does now, regardless of whether or not that love can take a more _physical_ expression. He’s not the kind of man to walk away from someone he cares deeply for just because of a little thing like _sex_. All that aside, he’s not exactly a _young_ man anymore.” Eggsy barked out a laugh at the dry comment.

“You sayin’ he ain’t gonna be able to get it up much longer?” He giggled. “Harry’s fit as fuck, mate – I _really_ don’ think that’ll be much of a problem fer him, yeah?” Gaius finally cracked a grin, chuckling along with Eggsy. 

“If you find out from personal experience, I don’t want the intimate details.” He laughed. “Is there anything else pressing on your mind?” Eggsy thought seriously for a moment.

“Nothin’ that can’t wait until our next _actual_ appointment, I think.” He pressed himself up out of the chair, feeling a bit of twinge in the deep wounds around his wrists that were _still_ working on healing. 

“And what are you going to do now?” Gaius asked conversationally, while reaching to pick his pad and pen back up. Eggsy paused at the door to throw a cheeky wink the old man’s way.

“Gonna go have me a good snog.” Gaius rolled his eyes heavenward, as though asking for patience.

“I said I _didn’t_ want the details, my boy.”

“Yes, _grandad_.”


	22. Chapter 22

Harry liked to think that he wasn’t one to be particularly subject to fanciful notions – he could have his moments of romanticism, of that one could be assured – but on the whole, he believed he was a somewhat sober-minded individual. He’d never put stock in such nebulous things as _destiny_ , or the concept that _everything happens for a reason._

Staring at the display in front of him, he thought that perhaps he should re-evaluate that idea, as this was _surely_ nothing less than fate.

* * *

“ _Eggsy!_ ” 

The man in question felt his heart leap at the shout, freezing in place in an instant. He kept himself still as a statue, telling himself that _If I don’t move she can’t see me_. He wasn’t sure exactly _why_ he’d had the thought, as treating his mum like a wayward velociraptor had never worked for him before. 

“What have I told you about eatin’ raw dough, babes?!” He slowly pulled the finger he’d been busy sucking clean out of his mouth. _Well, shit_. 

“But your bakin’s always so _tasty_ , mum.” He tried, wheedling, only for her to continue to glare at him with hands on her hips. 

“So wait fer it to be actually _baked_ then, you lunatic. Yer gonna make yerself _sick_ from them raw eggs!” He tried a charming smile, just as Daisy began giggling from her spot at the table in Roxy’s lap, the older girl clearly making an effort not to do the same. 

“Oh, _shut up_.” He said peevishly in Roxy's direction at the smug look on her face, but couldn’t help but laugh after all. _Twenty-five years old and me mum can still make me feel like a boy… Maybe that’s just what mums do?_ He turned to the door, still chuckling a little, when Harry came through. “Hey, Harry? How old was you when yer mum stopped treatin’ you like you was still a kid?” His tone was teasing, but Harry looked a bit distracted.

“Hmm?” The older man replied, before seeming to snap-to. “Oh. I dare say it _never_ happened; I was well into my forties when she died, and she would still routinely lecture me not to spill jam on my nice trousers.” Eggsy snorted a laugh, even as he could feel his brows drawing together in concern.

“Alright, Harry?” He asked quietly as Harry pressed one of his large hands to Eggsy’s lower back and bent down to give him a kiss on the forehead. 

“Quite.” As reassuring as the answer was probably meant to be, Eggsy couldn’t bring himself to relax – he knew what Harry sounded like when something was on his mind. “We’re due to meet with Merlin, my dear.” 

“Oh, shit. Almost forgot abou’ it.” Sending one last longing look at the bowl of raw biscuit dough, he sighed wistfully before following the older man out of the kitchen and towards Arthur’s sitting rooms. “Think you’ve gotten it all sorted, then?” He asked, knowing _precisely_ what they were meeting Merlin about. 

“I believe so, yes.” 

The sitting room doors opened to reveal both Merlin and Gaius comfortably settled around the low table, leaving the small settee open for Harry and Eggsy to claim. A hot tea service was already laid out, and Harry wasted no time in fixing a cup just the way that Eggsy liked it, handing it off to the younger man absentmindedly before starting in on one for himself. 

“Gentlemen.” Merlin greeted, while Gaius tipped Eggsy a small smirk with a twinkle in his eye, making the young agent roll his own.

“Afternoon, Merlin and Gaius.” Harry responded, ever the polite fuck that he was. 

“Heya, lads.” Eggsy echoed, just to delight in the exasperated looks that all three of the older gents would give him. _Gotta keep ‘em on they’s feet somehow_. Gaius held out a plate of biscuits, which Eggsy promptly dived for. “Safe, thanks mate!” Harry had that unbearably fond look on his face again, and Eggsy had gotten to the point where he didn’t question it anymore – he just accepted the fact that there was something about the trainwreck of a human being that he was that seemed to keep that look on the older man’s face. 

“I believe we all know why we’re here.” Merlin said dryly, and Eggsy couldn’t help the small snort of amusement that he gave. 

“Jus’ tell me where to sign or whatever,” He mumbled around a mouthful of biscuit, unconcerned. “ain’t gotta be some big thing.” Harry’s tired sigh from beside him made him feel a little bad about his nonchalance. 

“It is indeed a _big thing_ , Eggsy.” The older agent insisted. “This is not something to be taken lightly.”

“I agree.” Gaius cut in, just as Eggsy was opening his mouth to argue. “The reality is, my dear boy, that Harry _is_ your superior – morally, this provides us with a bit of a problem.”

“Ain’t like Harry would ever take advantage of that!” The soft look that overcame the man in question’s face at Eggsy’s insistence was certainly a sight to behold, as quick as it was.

“Aye, _we_ all know that.” Merlin assured. “If I had any doubts about such a thing, this would be an _entirely_ different conversation, lad. But that willna stop _others_ from questioning it – so that means we need to have certain rules in place.” At the mulish look on Eggsy’s face, Gaius cut in.

“This is wholly to _protect_ the both of you, my boy. Should anyone ever try to use the relationship between the two of you as grounds to have either yourself or Harry removed from your position, this would help prevent such a thing from happening.” 

“I get tha’, yeah? So’s why can’t we just sign them papers or whatever and be done with it?”

“Eggsy.” Harry’s quiet voice drew his growing frustration to a halt, the expression on his face one of understanding. “This matter needs to be discussed thoroughly by the four of us _prior_ to anything being signed. That is _also_ for both of our protection – this enables both Merlin and Gaius to truthfully say, if questioned, that you were not coerced by me in any way to sign these documents. It is all well and good to have your signature upon a piece of paper, my dear, but that wouldn’t prevent someone who was determined to stir trouble from attempting to claim that you only signed because I _forced_ you to. Do you see?” Eggsy grumbled a bit under his breath.

“Yeah, alright. Let’s do this then.” He waived a hand as if to say _Get on with it_ , and Merlin cleared his throat, leaning back in his seat and tapping the sheaf of papers in his lap to straighten them. 

“Let’s start with you then, Excalibur.” At Eggsy’s nod, He began. “You assure that one Harry Hart, position: _Arthur_ , has not coerced or pressured you in any way to enter into your personal relationship?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“You were offered the position of _Excalibur_ based on skill, merit, and completion of all relevant candidacy evaluations, and not because of promised favours deriving from your relationship – either you to him, or he to you?”

“Yeah.” 

“You assure that you will never use your relationship in an attempt to influence or force Arthur’s decisions in regards to Kingsman business, and understand that should it be discovered that you have done so, it means immediate dismissal from your position of Excalibur as well as further punishment dependant on the consequences of your influence?”

“Yes.” 

“You agree that should you feel that Arthur is using your relationship to pressure you into missions or actions while on duty that you are uncomfortable with, you will _immediately_ report such an event to Kingsman’s second-in-command, position: _Merlin_ , to be dealt with appropriately?”

“I agree.” 

“You agree that _none_ of your missions will be directly overseen by Arthur, and will instead be under the purview of Kingsman second-in-command, position: _Merlin_? You also agree that though Arthur will be of course kept informed of your mission status, any order that he gives can be superseded by Kingsman second-in-command, position: _Merlin_ , should they feel that Arthur’s orders are being influenced by his personal attachment rather than what is best for the mission and for Kingsman?” 

“I agree.” 

“Excellent. Now, for the record: when did your personal feelings for Harry Hart, position: _Arthur_ , take on a romantic leaning? Prior to his coronation as _Arthur_ , or after?”

“Prior.” 

“When?” Here Eggsy hesitated to answer – because if he fessed up on record that it was while he was still a candidate, wouldn’t that just make it all worse? Wouldn’t that look bad for _Harry_?

“Eggsy.” Gaius’ voice drew his attention, and he let go of his lower lip that he hadn’t even realized he’d begun to chew at in his nervousness. “It’s alright, just answer the question.” Gaius knew the answer himself, of course, so if he was saying it was alright… Then he’d just have to trust the old man. Clearing his throat nervously, he could feel a bit of heat come to his cheeks and steadfastly _refused_ to look anywhere near Harry.

“During my candidacy.”

* * *

Though Harry had known the answer, intellectually, it still managed to make his breath catch. When he thought back upon Eggsy’s time as a recruit, he _still_ had trouble pinpointing where, exactly, the young man’s feelings for him had changed.

Outside Holborn Eggsy had been suspicious of him, combative. In the Black Prince he'd been hung on Harry’s every word, but only because he’d been eager to soak up any knowledge whatsoever about his late father. And, of course, that had quickly changed to righteous anger over Harry’s disparaging remarks about his way of life. _Concern_ , that an innocent stranger would be harmed for his actions. Curiosity and no small amount of fear, after watching Harry destroy a bar full of his step-father’s goons. 

What had possessed the boy to so steadfastly defend his name, when questioned by Dean Baker afterwards? Was it merely that Eggsy took pride in the fact that he had ‘never grassed anyone up’, and therefore wasn’t about to start with Harry? 

And then when the young man had joined Harry at Kingsman for the first time – fresh bruises upon his cheek that had swelled an irrational anger within Harry, to see him so marked, despite the fact that he hardly knew the boy. Eggsy had been cautious, then. Hesitant to get in the small fitting room alone with him, and now knowing the _entirety_ of the boy’s past Harry could hardly believe that Eggsy had dared to come in, after all. He could see now, in hindsight, that Eggsy had gone into that fitting room fully believing that Harry was about to demand things of him as _payment_ for his freedom.

That the young man had followed him regardless boggled the mind. 

At the door to the dorms, it was obvious that Eggsy had been hesitant to leave his side, but given that they’d only just met (again) that morning, Harry had assumed that it was merely the leaving of one unknown for a _greater_ one that was the culprit. And, if he was being perfectly honest, he’d spent the majority of Eggsy’s training in a coma so it wasn’t as if he’d _done_ anything to influence the boy’s feelings _there_. 

So when had it changed? _Why_ had it changed? 

“During your candidacy, did Harry Hart – contemporarily codenamed _Galahad_ – make any inappropriate advances, offer assistance with your trials beyond the Kingsman-stipulated bounds of mentorship, or other such acts that would call his behaviour into question?”

“No, he didn’t do nothin’ like that.” 

“So your personal feelings were in no way coerced or influenced by the man himself?”

“That’s right.” 

“Well, I think that’s enough to be getting on with, then.” Merlin finally sighed, scrawling his signiture upon the papers before handing them off to Gaius to do the same, as witness. They were eventually passed down the line to Eggsy himself, who glanced them over quickly but signed with nary a hesitation. Harry found himself marvelling over the fact that such an amazing creature would deem a relationship with a tired old man _worth_ all of this trouble. 

“Your turn.” The younger agent said carelessly, reaching for the plate of biscuits once again before slumping back in his seat. 

Indeed, it was _his_ turn. Harry made much the same assurances as Eggsy had been asked to – that he wouldn’t allow their personal relationship to influence his duty to Kingsman, _blah blah blah_ – and Eggsy remained rather bored at his side through the whole thing, given the repetitious nature of the questions. 

“Alright. And when did your personal feelings for Gary Unwin, position: _Excalibur_ , take on a romantic leaning? Prior to your coronation as _Arthur_ , or after?” Harry could feel Eggsy perk up a little at the question, and silently cursed. This was _not_ something that the two of them had discussed privately, as of yet, and Harry felt some remorse that the first time it came up was in front of two colleagues. 

“Prior.” Eggsy’s mouth dropped open in surprise at his response, Merlin went suspiciously still, and Gaius looked entirely too smug. 

“ _Prior_?” Merlin clarified, before narrowing his eyes in suspicion. “When?” Harry rolled his eyes to the ceiling, feeling as though pinned under three different expectant gazes. 

“During his candidacy.” 

You could have heard a fucking pin drop in the room. _Really, how dramatic_.

“Is that so?” Merlin mused, at the same moment as Eggsy croaked out “ _What?!_ ” Harry raised a brow, turning to give the young man his attention.

“Why so surprised?” He drawled, not bothering to keep the amusement from his face. Eggsy’s eyes immediately narrowed.

“Listen here, you li’l _shit_ – ”

“Gentlemen,” Merlin broke in quickly. “if we could finish up? I have better things to do with my time.” As soon as Harry was done confirming that _no, he had not acted upon his entirely inappropriate feelings for his own candidate_ , the papers were yet again signed and witnessed and the others were on their merry way. He could feel Eggsy staring at him, and found himself inexplicably nervous for the conversation to come.

_Will it bother him, that I was harbouring such feelings while he was supposed to be under my tutelage? Does this make me no better than others that he’s known?_

“Harry.” He reluctantly looked up at Eggsy’s face, seeing only a frown of confusion or concern upon his brow. _It’s so dreadfully difficult to tell **which** , with him. _

“Yes, my dear?”

“Tell me.” Taking a deep breath, he decided just to give the young man the deserved truth. _Nothing offered, nothing gained._

“I saw your criminal record, and I thought you a disappointing legacy for a good man. You lectured me about silver spoons, and I realized that you had _potential_ – to shake things up in this dusty old place, to prove to Chester that he was wrong in his elitism. You surprised me with your intelligence, your resiliency, and I found myself wondering what else you had hidden within you. I watched you succeed in your training, and felt nothing but _pride_ in your accomplishments.” 

It was true – in the beginning, Harry had only wanted to see him _succeed_ , to be a worthy heir to all that Lee _should_ have had. 

“I saw your caring heart, the _good_ within you, and I thought you _beautiful_.” 

He could hear Eggsy’s breath hitch at that, but forced himself to continue on in his confession – for if he didn’t get it all out in the open _now_ , he might never find himself capable of it. 

“I awoke from the coma, and my first thought was of _you_ – what I had missed of your training, how you were faring, whether Chester had found some way to dismiss you while I wasn’t there to prevent it. I was told by the medical staff that you’d sat by my side at every moment you could spare, and I convinced myself that – though clearly such a thing indicated you felt more for me than merely a mentor – that perhaps you were looking for some sort of _father figure_. I told myself that in such a case, I would keep my feelings to myself and give you whatever you wanted.”

He would _still_ give Eggsy anything he asked for – the sun, the moon, the stars. _Anything_. 

“I saw you strapped to the train rails, keeping my secrets just as fiercely as you had the first time from your step-father, and in that moment I _wanted_ you. I saw you in my home, _comfortable_ and like you _belonged_ there, I shared breakfast with you at my table, and I envisioned _keeping_ you – for as long as you would allow me to have you. I thought to myself that once you were Lancelot, that once we were _equals_ , perhaps I could have the things that I’d been yearning for – only to feel as though it had all slipped away that awful day. I lashed out at you, and spent the entire flight to Kentucky trying to figure out how I was going to _fix_ it when I got back.”

Not just how he was going to convince Chester to keep Eggsy on at Kingsman in some capacity, but also how he was going to convince the young man that he hadn’t meant any of the awful things he’d said. 

“I stared down the barrel of that gun, and my only thought was that I was _failing_ you – that I would never get the chance to make things right. I watched death come for me, and I understood in that moment that what I felt for you wasn’t merely lust, or affection, but rather the kind of all-encompassing _love_ that I had spent the majority of my life trying to avoid.”

He swallowed harshly, determined to finish it out.

“I will _never_ love another as I do you. I will never _belong_ to another as I belong to _you_.” He waited, head bowed, unsure of what exactly he was expecting from the young man after such a confession. Eggsy had told him before that he loved him, and Harry _knew_ that there was devotion there, but would his words prove to be _too much_ , too heavy, for the young man to bear?

“Harry.” Eggsy’s voice was pressed and tight, and the older man was unable to determine the underlying emotion for _why_. “Harry, let’s go to bed.” The statement brought his head around, peering at Eggsy’s serious face in slight confusion. 

“…It’s the middle of the afternoon?” He questioned stupidly, only to see the young man close his eyes for a moment before opening them to give him a determined look.

“No, you thick _wanker_.” Eggsy gritted out. “Let’s _go to bed_.” 

The words were weighted, and Harry felt like a fool when it suddenly clicked.

_Oh._


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger Warning:** Somewhat explicit sexual content - all of it is _consensual_ , however.

The bedroom door slamming behind them brought Harry out of his disbelieving stupor. 

Eggsy’s quick and clever hands had somehow already divested him of his suit jacket, the cloth falling to the floor with a distinct _thump_ that left him with a fleeting thought for the package hidden within the inner breast pocket, but the faint trembling of the young man’s hands at the clasp of his shoulder holsters immediately redirected his attention. 

“Eggsy.” He breathed, pressing his own large palm down to still the other’s fumbling fingers. There were many things buried in the tone of his voice – _Are you certain? Don’t force yourself. I can wait an eternity, if it is for you._ The young man’s gaze remained fixed on their entwined hands at Harry’s shoulder, a fetching pink spilling across his cheeks as his breath hitched. 

“Please, Harry?” Eggsy’s voice was equally quiet, though it trembled just as much as his hands. “Please, let me? I mean, I dunno if… I dunno if I’ll change me mind half through, but… But I want to try. If you want? I mean, I know some folks just ain’t about the whole _sex_ thing… I shoulda asked you that first, right? If you even want ta – ” Harry’s free hand came up to cradle a hot cheek, cutting off the rambling.

“Eggsy.” He waited, until a pair of luminous green eyes finally met his own nervously. “I want anything and everything that you wish to allow me, my dear. No more, no less.” Eggsy seemed to search his expression for a long moment, the nervousness upon his face disappearing as his jaw clenched tight in determination. The shove to his chest was startling, and he worried that he’d somehow said the wrong thing for a moment before he felt his back meet with a soft mattress, a not-insignificant weight settling across his lap as Eggsy straddled him. 

“Harry…” The young man’s voice was rough as he’d never heard it before, it’s usual softness gone and leaving only unadulterated _heat_. “Harry. Get me fuckin’ naked, love.” _Now **there** is a command I have no qualms in obeying…_

He smoothed his palms up strong thighs, feeling the muscles flex deliciously as Eggsy shifted forward to work again at the holster clasp, this time with steady hands that wasted no time in tearing the leather down his arms. His guns deposited unceremoniously on the floor beside the bed, Eggsy moved on to his shirt buttons just as Harry trailed wandering fingers to the hem of his tee, slipping underneath to scratch lightly at over-heated skin. 

A shiver traced its way over the young man’s form, and just as the last of his own buttons slipped free of its mooring, Harry trailed his hands ever higher, drawing the soft cotton encompassing his prize upwards with them. Eggsy’s torso – that _gorgeous_ flesh that he’d been trying to avoid thinking about for _months_ – was finally bared to him in all its glory as Eggsy impatiently jerked the tee the rest of the way over his head, tossing it over his shoulder without another thought. 

“So _beautiful_ …” Harry murmured, curving his palms around the heaving ribcage beneath them, using his grip to pull the smaller man forward as he leant up to steal a kiss. Eggsy’s lips met his own eagerly, his hands sliding into the older man’s hair in order to grip and muss it thoroughly. So focussed was he on the _taste_ of him – like sweetened tea and biscuits, and some unidentifiable thing that was just _Eggsy_ – on the feel of his clever tongue, that it wasn’t until they parted on a gasping breath that Harry realized their bodies were ever so slightly rocking together. 

“ _Harry_ …” Where Eggsy’s hands were steady, dragging the opened shirt down Harry’s arms in impatient jerks, he could feel his own fingers begin to tremble just the slightest bit. _I would fell empires, just to hear him say my name in such a way._ He tucked them just inside the waistband of the young man’s ever-present trackies, glancing up at his flushed face while he waited for permission. It didn’t take Eggsy long to figure out what the pause was for, his eyes cutting away momentarily before determinedly coming back to meet Harry’s gaze. “I _did_ say ‘naked’, didn’ I?” There was false bravado in the tone, as he could feel the abdominal muscles his fingers were tucked against quiver, but this was not a decision that Harry could make _for_ the young man. 

If Eggsy said ‘off’, then ‘off’ they would come. 

He pulled the drawstring loose, sliding both trackies and pants down over firmly rounded flesh while Eggsy himself leant up to deftly open Harry’s belt. Both their trousers proved to be insignificant obstacles, as all remaining clothing somehow found its way to the floor faster than Harry’s distracted senses could quite keep track of. 

The feeling of bare flesh meeting bare flesh was far more _momentous_ than it had ever been in Harry’s previous experiences – because it was _Eggsy’s_ bare flesh; because Harry had never _dared_ to hope that they would come this far, that he would be permitted to have such a thing. Because he _knew_ how Eggsy felt about being touched, especially upon bare skin, and could hardly believe that he was being granted such _trust_. 

The body under his palms was nothing short of _magnificent_ – all firm muscle, velvety soft skin, littered over with many scars that detracted from his beauty _not a whit_. His thumb pressed lightly down over the simple scar where that _bastard’s_ brand had once rested, thinking to himself that Eggsy’s scars were hallmarks of his strength, his _power_. They only made him _more_ beautiful, for all that they represented. 

Eggsy’s hips rocked forwards once more, grinding hard and interested flesh into Harry’s own and making them both gasp for breath. His hand squeezed down involuntarily on the delectable backside he’d been cradling, while his other raised to lightly grip the back of the smaller man’s neck. Unable to help himself, Harry nipped lightly just below the cut of that sharp jaw, feeling the shudder it produced ripple its way across the body he held. 

“ _Harry!_ ” Eggsy’s face tucked into the curve of his neck, chest expanding against Harry’s own as he drew in a deep breath through his nose. Remembering what he’d once said about Harry’s scent being comforting to him, as well as that the young man had been rather embarrassed by the notion, Harry decided to confess some secrets of his own.

“Have I ever told you,” He asked idly, while pressing small kisses to the freckled shoulder in front of him. “that you smell like the most delicious things?” 

“Hmm?” Eggsy’s face raised from its hiding place at that, glancing at the older man in curiosity. Harry couldn’t stop the fond smile from tugging at his lips, even if he’d wanted to. 

“You smell like apples and spices… nutmeg and vanilla. After that first night that you’d slept in my bed, the sheets smelled of you; it drove me positively _mad_ , picturing you beside me – like _this_ – and thinking that I was never going to be able to have such a thing.” Eggsy’s breath hitched, lust-blown eyes widening in surprise.

* * *

“ _Have it, then._ ” He said with a bit of a growl to his voice, threading greedy fingers through Harry’s fucked-out hair to drag him closer. “ _Have **me**._ ” He rolled his hips forward once again with purpose, taking Harry’s mouth with his own to tangle them together in a desperate bid to get the older man to just _hurry the fuck up already_. 

He breathed a sigh of relief when Harry’s grip on him tightened, something almost like a snarl rumbling in the man’s chest as he pressed their hips together with greater purpose. Eggsy gloried in the feel of them together – the faint stubble on his own chin and cheeks rasping against Harry’s smoothly shaven jaw, the largeness of Harry’s palms wrapped around his ribcage once again making him feel smaller than he knew he actually was. The sweat, rising up from their pores and slowly slicking over the both of them, making every roll of their hips together just that little bit smoother, just that little bit _filthier_. 

A small part of the back of his mind was waiting in terror for his interested body to suddenly _switch off_ , to decide it’d had enough of being touched, and he wanted to have as much of Harry as he possibly could before that happened. It was making him tense in ways that he knew he needed to _not_ be, but he didn’t know what to do about it. Harry broke their kiss with a gasping breath, pressing their foreheads together and moving both hands down to grip Eggsy’s hips tightly, stilling their motion.

“ _Eggsy_.” He tried the fight the grip, not wanting to slow down. “ _Wait_ , Eggsy, _please_.” The ‘wait’ made him pause immediately, suddenly concerned that he’d done something to make Harry change his mind about the whole thing. The larger man was still hard and throbbing against him, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything, right? Harry pressed another kiss to his lips, much slower and softer than the previous one, and Eggsy felt a part of himself that had tightened up in fear relax. 

“I’ve just come to the realization – and please don’t shoot me, darling – that I may be a bit… _under-prepared_ for this endeavour.” Eggsy blinked at him, his fuzzy brain taking a moment to catch up. 

“You don’ got any slick?” A breathless chuckle escaped the other man at his question, before he reached a long arm out to dig in the drawer of the night table, tossing a tube upon the sheets.

“ _That_ is not quite the problem.” And… oh. _Oh!_ No condoms. Right. _Because why would Harry have some if he weren’t expectin’ ta get a leg over anytime soon?_ “What do you _want_ , my dear?” Harry’s voice was full and throaty, rumbling from his chest darkly in a way that made Eggsy feel like _prey_ – but in a _very good_ way. “Do you wish to stay just like this…?” He continued, wrapping a hand around the both of them and making Eggsy jerk from the sensation. 

He kissed him deeply again while he thought about his options. Inevitably, it came down to just one thing – he _wanted_ Harry. _All_ of him. 

“I want…” He gasped out, cutting off quickly as the older man twisted his hand in _just_ the right way. He reached down to grasp Harry around the wrist, stilling his motions so that he’d have at least _one_ brain cell to think with. “Harry, I want… I mean, if _you_ want – ” He chewed his lip nervously, unsure how to ask. “I don’ _have_ nothin’… I mean – ” _Good goin’, Eggsy. Just bring **that** up when you’s tryin’ ta convince him ta shag you. Fuckin’ well done, mate._

“I’ve seen your medical records.” Harry said gently, saving Eggsy from his internal cursing as he let out a sigh of relief. “Are you entirely certain that you wish for such a thing?” 

“ _Yes, Harry!_ ” He practically growled, internally crowing with glee when his mouth was taken in a hard kiss yet again, as if the other man couldn’t help himself. “I trust you…” He breathed when his mouth was released, feeling the larger man’s hands clench at the admission. “…and I might’ve already had a peek at your records. Maybe.” Harry’s breathless laughter soothed his nerves like nothing else could.

“ _Anything_ you wish, my dear.” He rumbled, both his hands coming down to squeeze at Eggsy’s ass, and making his heart start thumping all the harder. “ _Anything_. Do you wish to have _me_ , or do you wish for me to have _you_?” 

Eggsy’s brain went right the fuck offline.

 _Never_ had he thought that Harry would offer something like _that_. He wasn’t sure _why_ he’d thought that, but it’d always been there in the back of his mind all the same. He toyed with the idea, of what it might be like to sink into Harry, of how he might _feel_. It was a _really fucking attractive_ offer, make no mistake – but one that Eggsy thought perhaps best left for a day when he was less nervous, less _worried_ about it all. 

The _last_ thing he ever wanted to do was run the risk of hurting Harry because he’d been too on edge to do things proper. _Best have it t’other way, then. For now._

“ _ **Have** me, Harry_.” He repeated, flushing all the hotter at the satisfied gleam that his answer brought to the other man’s eye. Harry reached for the tube of slick, rubbing some between his fingers to warm it, and Eggsy couldn’t help but internally snigger a little over it. _What a gent, my Harry_. 

“On your knees would be easiest, darling.” He _knew_ it would be, but… _But_. 

“No!” He yelped out a little desperately when Harry started to shift him, the man stilling instantly. Eggsy could feel his cheeks flood with heat, this time purely from embarrassment. “I jus’… I wanna be able to see you? I think I – I _need_ to see you.” The older man’s face creased with both concern and understanding, and Eggsy could feel his own fall in misery. 

_Why can’t I just be fuckin’ **normal**?! Why I gotta have all these fuckin’ **issues**?!_

His thoughts were drawn to a halt when Harry leant forward to kiss him once again, and Eggsy purposefully concentrated on the _taste_ of him, on the scent of Harry around him, on the fact that there were slick silk sheets beneath his knees instead of rough concrete. The fingers of one of Harry’s hands pinched lightly at a nipple, making his body jerk and working to bring back the interest that had momentarily started to dissipate. The hand continued on a journey southwards, wrapping itself around the both of them once more for a quick stroke before relocating to take a handful of tightly rounded ass, pulling him open while also drawing him tighter into the larger body before him. 

The slick fingers of Harry’s other hand rubbed at him gently, almost teasing in their slowness, until Eggsy let out a frustrated groan. He bit Harry’s lip lightly in retaliation for the chuckle it had earned him, trying to press himself back harder on the fingers, only for them to be drawn away.

“ _Harry_ , fuckin’ _come on!_ ” 

“Patience, love.” Eggsy growled at the easy tone.

“I can _take_ it, just hurry up!”

* * *

Harry drew in a deep breath, praying for some fortitude. He wanted nothing more than to _hurry up_ , to plunge slick fingers into the young man and feel him _hot and wet and tight_ around him, but he positively _refused_ to have their first experience together be in any way like what Eggsy was… _used to_. 

It didn’t take any kind of particular genius to work out the fact that the young man’s previous _experiences_ more than likely held very little – if _any_ – pleasure. Harry was bound and determined to show him what sex _should_ be like, at all times. 

He pressed a kiss to a sharp collarbone, scraping it lightly with teeth as he _finally_ allowed a finger to slowly slip inside of Eggsy’s writhing body. Having the young man in his lap didn’t provide him with the _best_ angle for doing so, but he understood entirely the hesitance that he’d shown with getting on his knees and allowing Harry to move behind him. He prepared Eggsy slowly, reaching to add more lubricant as he felt it was needed and glorying in the increasingly desperate sounds that worked themselves from the young man’s throat. 

He could feel the muscles in Eggsy’s thighs begin to tremble, unsure whether it was due to the sensations or the fact that he’d been leant up on his knees so long to give Harry better access for stretching him. 

“Harry… Harry, I think I need ta lay down…” _Ah, the latter then_. Pulling his fingers out as quickly as he could while still remaining gentle, he wrapped a firm arm about Eggsy’s waist and moved them so that he was leaning over the smaller form, Eggsy resting upon his back against Harry’s dark sheets. 

“Sorry…” The young man muttered in embarrassment, but Harry only smiled and gripped him behind one knee. 

“No mattter, my dear.” He assured, raising Eggsy’s leg so that his foot was flat upon the bed, opening him up for Harry to slide between his marvellous thighs. “I _much_ prefer this way.” He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the knee he still held, working his way down the leg while his fingers resumed their purpose. “Is this alright for you?” He momentarily paused, worried that the sensation of being held down would cause harm. Eggsy smiled softly, raising a hand to cup Harry’s cheek before running his thumb over his lower lip. 

“Yeah.” He answered simply and Harry realized, _It’s because he can still see my face_. He nipped lightly at the pad of Eggsy’s thumb, giving it a small suck that caused the other man’s plush lips to part on a gasp, pink and _inviting_ tongue [curled delicately behind his teeth](https://66.media.tumblr.com/ff608505508623ce75a11eb3f2d0f89e/tumblr_nrla0mg22m1qgpaguo10_250.gif). Harry was sorely tempted to raise up and take that tongue for his own yet again, but held back out of sheer bloody willpower to finish what he’d started. Dropping his mouth back down to the raised thigh, he continued his meandering trail ever closer to that damnably tempting crease that cut from his sharp hipbone down to Harry’s true goal. 

Harry curled his fingers just the slightest bit more on his next stroke within the hot clutch of Eggsy’s body, feeling his own need gain in desperation as the young man let out a sharp cry, back bowing and abdomen clenching tight. _Excellent_. Deliciously slick fluid began welling up at the tip of Eggsy’s flushed cock, and Harry could no more stop himself from leaning in for a taste than he could stop the Earth from fucking rotating. A sound suspiciously like a whimper fell from Eggsy’s lips as the older man enveloped him in slick warmth, and he would have been content to stay precisely where he was, had a clenching hand not tangled into his hair and pulled him away from his feast. 

“You fuckin’ do that, I ain’t gonna last.” Eggsy gasped, before using his grip to haul Harry up higher for a desperate kiss. “Get your cock in me. _Now_.” 

The words hit him like a blow, the restraint he’d been trying to show beginning to crumble sharply under the hot demand in his rough voice. Harry reached out blindly for the tube once more, hissing slightly at the lubricant’s cooler temperature but unwilling to waste time on warming it up for himself. He paused before pressing in, Eggsy’s stretched muscles twitching and fluttering against him temptingly.

“Are you…?”

“ _Now_ , Harry!”

“Yes, dear.” He chuckled quietly, marvelling to himself that Eggsy could have him more fevered than he’d ever been in his life, and still somehow make him want to _laugh_. He pressed himself slowly inside, resisting the urge to just _claim_ the willing flesh beneath him. Eggsy’s breath stuttered sharply, his eyes falling closed as his head tipped back against the sheets, hands coming up to once again clench in Harry’s curls. He held himself still until the young man’s eyes opened again, pink around the edges and looking suspiciously more _wet_ than before. “…Eggsy?” His fears were abated when a blinding smile broke across his beloved face, and something melted deep within his chest. 

“ _Harry!_ ” Unable to resist, he bent close to once again take that clever mouth while he began to roll his hips in small movements, marvelling over how _hot_ and _tight_ Eggsy was around him. He fisted his hands tightly in the sheets at the young man’s head when Eggsy raised flexible legs, hooking his knees over Harry’s arms and opening himself up all the wider. 

“ _Fucking Christ_ …” He put more weight and speed behind his thrusts as Eggsy began to roll his own hips in counterpoint to Harry’s movements, the young man’s own cock pressed tightly between them. Harry reached a hand down to wrap around him, only getting a stroke or two in before he was stopped.

“ _No, no, no_ …” Eggsy breathed, but there was no hint of panic in his voice, only _pleading_. “Wanna come with you… _Just_ you…” 

And that? That almost did Harry in, right then and there. _God_.

He relocated the hand to grasp desperately at the curve of Eggsy’s hip and thigh, the smaller man’s knee almost completely pushed to his own shoulder in a such a way that Harry thought what was _left_ of his brain could just fucking _melt_. Using his tight grip, he jerked Eggsy further down the sheets, further into the bend of Harry’s own larger body, and felt something positively _feral_ come alive at the pleasured cry that the change in angle earned him. 

He buried his face at the turn of Eggsy’s neck, hiding the _snarl_ that he could feel upon his expression, frightened himself at the clawing _possession_ that had risen up sharply within him, and even more afraid to show such a thing to the sweet young thing beneath him – Eggsy, who was always so fiercely independent… Eggsy, who _surely_ would not appreciate the sentiment.

Harry _knew_ – better than most, perhaps – that he held no claim over the young man, not _really_. And he would _never_ try to stop Eggsy from leaving, if it was what he so wished. He was almost ashamed of that hideous little beast within his chest that stubbornly insisted _MINE!_ , despite all that. Eggsy’s knotted fingers tugged at his hair sharply, trying to draw him upwards from his hiding place, even as their bodies continued to rut against each other in desperation.

“ _Harry_ …” He breathed. “Harry, let me _see_ you…” Harry immediately raised his head, his drive to give Eggsy anything he asked for overturning his fear of what may show plainly in his expression.

* * *

Harry raised his head, and the little knot of uneasiness that’d begun to grow immediately went away. The look on the older man’s face was… Well, to be honest, Eggsy didn’t really _know_ what it was. But _whatever_ it was, it made Eggsy feel… _powerful_. Wanted. _Consumed_ , in all the best ways. It went straight to his already throbbing cock, and – unbelievably – Eggsy could feel that he was almost _there_. 

He just needed… _something_. He could almost cry from the fact that he couldn’t figure out _what_. 

“ _Harry!_ ” He gasped, pressing his forehead into the older man’s own. “I’m gonna… I _need_ …”

“What do you need, darling?” Harry’s voice was already rough and fucked-out, rumbling lowly and driving Eggsy on that much further. Harry’s hips slammed into him harder, and Eggsy dropped his hands with a soft cry to grip tightly at Harry’s shoulders instead of his hair. 

“ _Tell_ me, you gorgeous thing.” Eggsy's abs and the muscles in his thighs began clenching tightly; he was _so close_ … 

“ _Please, Harry!_ ” Harry’s hand on his hip was grasping him so tightly, he could practically _feel_ the bruises forming, but his only thought was _Yes yes yes, make me yours!_ Harry’s other hand let go of the sheets, sliding beneath Eggsy’s neck to cradle him, thumbing at his jaw to raise his face for another deep kiss. 

” _Tell me_ , Eggsy.” He growled against his uselessly open mouth, gasping for air on a sob. 

“You!” He stuttered out nonsensically. “I need _you_!”

“You _have_ me, my darling…” Hearing the word _my_ fall from Harry’s lips ratcheted him up that one bit closer to what he was searching for, and suddenly Eggsy knew _exactly_ what he needed.

“ _Yours!_ ” He sobbed out, eyes wet and desperately grasping hands sliding on Harry’s slick skin. A low growl erupted from the other man’s chest, sounding dangerous and _oh so fucking good_.

“ _Mine!_ ” It was practically a _snarl_ , pressed at Eggsy’s lips as every fucking nerve in his body _lit the fuck up_. His head slammed back against the sheets as Harry continued to cradle the back of his neck protectively, every muscle within him clenching down in his release as he _shook_ and _shook_ with it. He could feel Harry, still thick and hot within him, driving relentlessly on toward his own end. 

“Come on, Harry…” He gasped when he felt he had control over his mouth once more. “Come for me, love…” 

Harry slammed into him once more, clinging to Eggsy desperately as he rolled his hips tightly against the luscious curve of the smaller man’s ass. Eggsy breathed in sharply, the feel of Harry throbbing thickly within him – _knowing_ that Harry was filling him up, marking him as _his_ – was almost enough to have him twitching in aftershocks. 

They laid, still and entwined, for a long moment as they both sought to catch their breaths. Eggsy lowered his legs back down to the mattress with a groan, the muscles protesting being stretched for so long now that he didn’t have excessive amounts of endorphins to distract him from it. He let out a small sigh as Harry swooped in for another deep kiss, softer and slower. It seemed much too short a time when Harry stopped kissing him, leveraging himself up further before he began to carefully withdraw, making them both hiss slightly in oversensitivity. 

“Oh, I am a _very_ bad man…” Harry muttered under his breath, and Eggsy blinked in confusion. He was pretty sure Harry wasn’t even aware he’d said it out loud. 

“What you on abou’, love?” Harry twitched slightly in surprise, and Eggsy knew he’d been right. The older man leant forward, trailing fingers over the crease of Eggsy’s ass and thigh where he’d only just noticed he felt a bit… _wet_. 

“Because this should not be anywhere _near_ as attractive as I’m finding it…” He muttered, pressing his trailing fingers inside Eggsy’s loosened body, when it suddenly clicked. _He’s pushing his come back inside me… holy fuckin’ **hell**._ He could feel himself give an interested _twitch_ , eyes widening with the realization that he was maybe finding that _really fucking attractive_ as well.

“You ain’t the only one, love.” Harry looked up at his face in surprise, eyes darkening in a way that sent pleasant shivers all over him. The older man seemed to give himself an almost physical _shake_ , bending to place a sweet kiss on Eggsy’s upturned knee.

“Let me get a cloth for you, dear.” 

Eggsy listened to the sounds of Harry puttering in the attached bath, and took a moment to evaluate how he felt – which was, primarily, _good_. He was fucking _thrilled_ , and no small amount of surprised, that they’d made it all the way through with no huge problems. It was _far_ more than he’d expected of himself. He could tell, from the moment when Harry’d temporarily hidden his face, that he was maybe going to have _issues_ with whether or not he could see Harry while they were… _doing things_ , but was that really such a huge problem? Maybe not. 

His thoughts were cut short as Harry returned, brandishing a damp cloth as he began to clean Eggsy up the best that he could. He looked troubled, and Eggsy felt his stomach get a bit queasy at the thought alone. _What’s Harry got to be troubled about, after a shag like **that**?_

“…Harry?” He seemed so lost in his own head that he didn’t even react. " _Harry_.” Eggsy tried again, jabbing him in the thigh with his heel a bit for good measure. 

“Hmm? Yes, my dear?” 

“What’s got ya all twisted ‘round?” Harry sighed heavily, tossing the soiled cloth over his shoulder vaguely in the direction of the bath. He shifted so that he was sat more at Eggsy’s hip, reaching out to grasp his closest hand and running gentle fingers over his scarred knuckles. 

“I am afraid.” He said simply, gazing resolutely down at their entwined fingers, rather than up at Eggsy’s face. It wasn’t a light admission for a man like Harry to make, by _any_ means, and it twisted the knot in his stomach up even further. 

“Of what?” He asked carefully, unsure of how to navigate this, but determined to keep whatever was going on from ruining everything that they’d just done. 

“Eggsy… You know that – that I would _never_ seek to keep you, should you ever wish to walk away…”

“…O’ fuckin’ _course_ I know that, Harry.” He said in confusion, before the memory rose – Harry’s hot, possessive growl of _Mine!_ that had set him off so spectacularly. “Ah.” Harry blinked up at him, finally raising his head at Eggsy’s noise of understanding. “This about the ‘mine’ thing, then?” The older man’s eyes fell again – in _shame_ – and Eggsy knew they had to deal with this, and deal with it _now_. 

“Harry, you remember tellin’ me earlier that you belonged to me?” That was enough to get him to raise his head again.

“Of course.” He answered in surprise, and Eggsy smiled.

“It’s the same, innit? I belong to you exactly like how you belong to me, love. I know you’d never hurt me, or try to stop me from goin’ if I wanted to. Just like how I’d never do that to _you_. Get it?” Harry was staring at him, but Eggsy couldn’t quite tell what was going on behind it. “S’why I started wearin’ your medal again, eh? When I thought you was… well. When you was _gone_ , I put it back on ‘cos it was the only thing I had that we’d _shared_ , ya know? And I put it on ‘cos I already knew, even then, that I weren’t _ever_ gonna feel for somebody else what I’d felt for you… What I _feel_ for you. I put it on ‘cos I ain’t got a problem wearin’ someone’s mark, so long as it’s _yours_.” Harry swallowed heavily, before inexplicably glancing at his forgotten suit jacket on the floor. Eggsy raised a brow and waited. 

“I have something for you.” Harry’s voice was rough in an entirely different way from what it’d been earlier; pressed tight with some kind of emotion. He jerked himself up from the bed awkwardly, and it almost would have been funny if Eggsy weren’t so concerned. He took halting steps to his jacket, drawing what looked to be a velvet box out of the inner breast pocket.

“Harry, if that’s a fuckin’ ring, I’m telling Gaius you need yer head examined again.” It was entirely worth it for the way the older man barked out a laugh, some of the tension draining from his shoulders as he came back to the bed and Eggsy forced himself to sit up properly. Harry smiled down at the box almost fondly. 

“I was out this morning,” He began.

“Escaping your paperwork.”

“For a _walk_.” 

“In London.” When Harry blinked at him in surprise, Eggsy shrugged. “Went lookin’ for ya, couldn’ find ya none, so I went to bug mum in the kitchen. Figured you was in Town.”

* * *

The astuteness of him would never cease to amaze Harry, truly. 

“As I was saying,” He began again, feeling twenty years younger and _awkward as hell_. “I was out this morning, _in London_ , and I happened to notice the museum had a special exhibit running. The advertisements for it caught my eye, and when I saw what it was… I decided that it must be some sort of _fate_.” He felt utterly ridiculous with the admission, but Eggsy looked positively _enthralled_. 

“Musta been one _hell_ of an exhibit ta make you say _that_.” 

“Quite. I didn’t stay to look at the actual display, as it was rather the gift shop that held my interest.” Eggsy’s eyes momentarily twitched down toward the still unopened box, the curious gleam sharpening in his eye. 

“So let’s see this _fated_ gift you’ve bought for me, then.” He said with a cheeky grin, making grabby hands, but Harry found himself nervous. _He’d been so attached to the medal… Will this only upset him?_ Silently, he handed over the velvet box and decided to let things fall as they would. Eggsy’s eyes widened when he lifted the lid to see the contents, and Harry held his breath.

“Is that… King Arthur’s crest?” He asked incredulously, lifting the necklace from it’s resting place to take a closer look at the shield-shaped pendant, before lightly trailing his fingers over the slimmer sword-like one sharing its chain. “And… _Excalibur_?” Harry could feel the corner of his lips curl at the delight slowly overtaking the young man’s face. 

“You can see why I thought it particularly appropriate.” Eggsy laughed at his dry response, before his face fell into seriousness. “…Eggsy?” He asked, not quite sure what had happened. 

“Do ya still have the medal, Harry?” He asked, and he felt his stomach fall just the slightest bit. _I suppose he doesn’t like it after all_. 

“Of course,” He replied, hiding his disappointment away as he reached into the night table on his side of the bed, drawing the item out. “I’d had the chain fixed for you, but I… well. Never mind that.” He _still_ could not look at the thing without thinking of that awful day that Eggsy was taken away, but if it was what he wanted… 

He blinked in surprise when Eggsy immediately removed the medal from its chain, tossing the disc back into the open drawer without another glance. _What?_ He watched as the young man opened up the chain on the new necklace, removing the crest pendant and threading it onto his old chain whilst leaving the Excalibur one in place. 

“What are you…?” He quieted when Eggsy glanced back up at him, an almost _serene_ smile upon his face. 

“Think you were right, Harry. This was _definitely_ fate – King Arthur and Excalibur, yeah?” Grasping the chain with the sword pendant, he reached up to affix it around Harry’s own neck. “I’ll wear your mark, if you’ll wear mine?” He glanced up at Harry almost _shyly_ through his lashes, and Harry realized that he’d been wrong when he’d thought that he couldn’t _possibly_ fall any harder under this fetching creature’s spell. Smiling softly in his fondness, he silently reached for Eggsy’s old chain, now bearing King Arthur’s crest.

“I would be _honoured_ , my dear.” He clasped the chain about Eggsy’s neck, feeling equal parts ridiculously _soppy_ and elated that the young man would want to wear such a thing, for _him_. They grinned at each other like besotted _idiots_ for a moment before Eggsy slapped him lightly on one shoulder.

“Right, that’s enough o’ _that_ for one day. Time for a shower, guv, ‘cos we are fuckin’ _rank_.”


	24. Epilogue

Eggsy woke as he felt an arm wind itself around his waist, pulling him backwards into the larger body behind him as Harry buried his face against his hair. Still feeling drained from his late return from Bolivia the night – or, rather, _really fucking early morning_ – before, he let himself fall back into a muzzy sort of half-sleep. Harry would rouse him when they needed to start getting ready for the day. 

It wasn’t long, however, before the loving arm around him started feeling _restraining_ and a knot of queasiness found it’s way to Eggsy’s stomach. He tapped twice on the back of Harry’s wrist, and the older man immediately let him go and rolled over. Blinking blearily in his exhaustion, Eggsy turned himself over as well and cuddled up to Harry’s broad back, throwing his own arm about the narrow waist before him, and the uneasiness in his gut immediately dissipated as he pressed his nose into Harry’s neck. It wasn’t long before sleep started to pull him under once again. 

There had been a part of Eggsy that had naively hoped that after their first time _really_ touching each other all those months ago, his aversion would have just magically fucked off – that maybe having sex with Harry, and _enjoying it_ , would somehow cure him and make him _normal_. 

But this ain’t that kind of movie, yeah?

Real life just didn’t work like that. It didn’t matter that he _knew_ Harry would rather die than do anything to hurt him. It didn’t matter that he could trust in the fact that Harry would never hold him down or restrain him. There were just some times that he needed to be the one _doing_ the touching, and not _being_ touched. Like this, he could still enjoy touching Harry – he could spend a lazy moment breathing in the scent of him, feeling bare skin against bare skin, and actually be _okay_ with it. 

At first, he hadn’t been able to figure it out; Harry had thrown an arm and a leg over him one night in his sleep – presumably to stop Eggsy’s relentless tossing and turning – and it’d been alright… for a few minutes. He’d been fine until he just suddenly _wasn’t_. It’d begun to feel too much like _forcibly_ being held down, _restrained_ , and Eggsy had started to panic. He’d thrown Harry off of him that night – _violently_ – and had felt like a complete arsehole afterwards because the man hadn’t even been awake to know _why_ Eggsy was suddenly upset. He’d stuttered out an apology, feeling sick to his stomach, as Harry had tried to calm him down. He’d felt even lower at the fact that he’d instinctively flinched away from Harry’s touch, like he hadn’t done in _ages_. 

That next morning had been the first time that Harry had come to sit in on one of his appointments with Gaius. 

Harry had explained to the old man in calm and detached tones what had happened the night before, and to hear him put it all so dryly had somehow made Eggsy feel even _more_ guilty about the whole thing. Gaius had asked Eggsy what had set him off, and he’d told them both with his eyes fixed ashamedly on the floor. It had turned out alright, though – Gaius had explained that it was apparently a normal reaction for someone who’d been through the things that he had, and that it was something they could try to work around. They’d discovered through talking it over that it was the actual feeling of being _held down_ that was the problem, and the old man had suggested they try switching around so that it was _Eggsy_ doing the holding – that way his body could feel that it wasn’t restrained, that he could get up and leave anytime, and they could still enjoy being close together. 

And it worked, for the most part. Sometimes Harry would reach out and grab in their sleep, which almost _always_ resulted in Eggsy waking up, but they’d sort of developed their own system for dealing with it. Usually, Eggsy would give Harry his few moments, until he could feel the uneasiness _just_ starting to creep in, and then he would tap Harry’s arm to silently tell him that it was time to switch. Harry never complained, never treated it like it was some big deal – it’s just the way things _were_. That helped a lot in making Eggsy feel like maybe he wasn’t so fucking _abnormal_ after all; maybe he still _could_ have some kind of life.

A gentle chime sounded from the night table on Harry’s side of the bed, and he felt the muscles in the man’s back shift against his chest as he reached to shut off the alarm. Eggsy groaned slightly, not ready to get up and begin their day yet.

“…time’s it?” He slurred, tightening his arm about Harry’s waist in a sleepy attempt to get him to stop moving.

“Quarter to seven.” Harry mumbled, dropping his own head back down to the pillow they were sharing. 

“…the _fuck_ , Harry. We ain’t gotta be up for _ages_ yet.” He buried his face deeper into Harry’s neck, hiding a sleepy grin as he lightly began to trail his fingers down the body he held. He pouted when the older man grabbed his wrist, hauling his wandering hand back up to chest-level. 

“Your mother will be here in a half hour to fetch Miss Daisy, my dear.” Being reminded that his baby girl was just down the hall in their spare room certainly went a long way to cooling off his intentions, and he released a long groan as he let Harry get up to start getting dressed. He flipped onto his back, rubbing fists into his eyes and trying to convince himself to function on just barely _three fucking hours_ of sleep. “Why don’t you try to get some more rest?” When Eggsy cracked an eye open to look at him, Harry’s face was concerned. 

“Nah, s’alright, love. Woulda had to been gettin’ up soon anyways.” He determinedly shoved himself up out of the bed, grabbing some pants from the drawer as Harry perused the twin sets of suits in the wardrobe. 

“Do you want the blue today, or the grey?” The older man asked distractedly. Eggsy stifled a grin – needless to say, he’d gotten his way about the whole _talking this shit out so we don’t match_ thing. 

“You wear the blue,” He mused, pulling on some black dress socks. “I’ll wear the grey.” Harry hummed an acknowledgement, taking out all the various pieces they would need and laying them neatly on the bed. When Eggsy returned from brushing his teeth, having given Mr Pickles a fond pat on his way by, he stopped a moment in the doorway to admire the view before him. Harry all done up in his suits would never fail to make his breath catch. 

“Shall I go wake Her Majesty while you dress?” Harry asked distractedly, and he couldn’t help but grin at the title – Harry had never treated his little flower any less than a princess, and as a joke Eggsy had suggested that he ought to be calling her appropriately. Little did he know that Harry would _actually_ do it.

“Yeah, cheers.” He tilted his cheek up for Harry’s kiss as the taller man slid past him through the doorway, taking a moment to marvel over the fact that _this was his life now_.

Eggsy had never thought, even in his brightest moments, that he would be able to have so fine a living. Not the just material part of it, either – the money was grand, don’t get him wrong… But the fact that he could share a _home_ with someone, be ridiculously in love with them and be able to _touch_ them. To wake in the morning to Harry’s quiet breaths and the sounds of birds out the window, rather than Dean’s screaming and the clash of noise that always seemed to surround the Estates.

_Proper fuckin’ lucky, me._

With a grin, he headed for the neatly laid suit on the bed.

* * *

“ _No!_ ” 

Harry sighed, watching as the toddler in the increasingly too-small crib clung valiantly to her blankie. _I’ll have to remember to talk with Eggsy about purchasing her a larger bed._ Crouching lower, so as to put himself more at her level, Harry gave Daisy a stern look. 

“I am afraid that even princesses must rise and face the day, Your Highness.” 

“No!” It was her newest learned word, and clearly her favourite at the moment. He sighed again. _Desperate times, desperate measures and all that_. 

“Such a shame, as I have a new pretty dress for you.” He said mournfully, hiding his smile when _that_ seemed to gain her attention. “But if you won’t leave the bed than I shan’t be able to give it to you…” She blinked at him for a moment, before letting her blankie drop and silently raising her arms. He couldn’t quite contain his wry grin at the movement, lifting her easily and moving over to the colourful wardrobe that Eggsy had stuffed to the brim with gifts for the wee one. He retrieved a package that he himself had hidden in one drawer, opening it up to reveal a flouncy little dress in a soft green that almost matched the shirt he’d chosen for Eggsy that day as well. 

“Pweddy!” Daisy proclaimed delightedly.

“ _Pretty_.” Harry reiterated, enunciating the consonants. A chuckle from the doorway drew his attention.

“She’s too little to get it right just yet, mate.” They shared a grin, as they did _every_ time this happened. 

“Repetition is good for developing memories.” He argued back, as he always did. _So frighteningly domestic, is it not?_ Eggsy came further into the room to make silly faces to distract his sister whilst Harry went about the business of getting her dressed. They’d learned – through trial and _many_ errors – that this was the easiest and fastest way when it came to the sometimes fussy little girl. 

_She’s definitely inherited Eggsy’s quick temper, lord help us all._

“Look at tha’, my lil’ flower!” Eggsy gasped in over-exaggerated delight. “We match now, don’ we?” He lifted her as soon as Harry was done, and the older man took a moment to drink in the sight of them – blonde curls and shorn hair, round little face and sharply square jaw, hazel eyes and Eggsy’s vibrant green that matched both their clothing. It was a _beautiful_ image that the two of them made, one that Harry frequently counted himself fortunate to be able to witness. 

“Da!” Daisy said, reaching up to pat at Eggsy’s cheeks. Both of the men froze, eyes widening in shock.

“Oh dear.” Harry didn’t know what else to say, really. The sound of the bell ringing cut off the opportunity in any case. Eggsy seemed to give himself a hard shake, tightening his grip on the little girl as he practically _sprinted_ for the front door, while Harry followed at a more sedate pace. Michelle was all smiles when Eggsy swung the door open, but that quickly changed as she took in the undoubtedly panicked look on her son’s face. 

“What is it?” She asked urgently, stepping inside and looking around.

“We have a problem.” Eggsy choked out, and Harry rolled his eyes.

“For godsakes, Eggsy. Don’t be so _dramatic_ , you’re frightening her.” Michelle looked at Harry, obviously taking in the fact that he was perfectly calm, and relaxed slightly. 

“What’s goin’ on, babes?” She asked in curiosity. Before he could respond, Daisy reached up to tug at one of Eggsy’s ears to try and get his attention.

“Da!” She called, the signs of an oncoming tantrum apparent. Michelle’s eyes widened slightly, before she doubled over in laughter at her son’s increasingly panicked look. 

“It’s not _funny_ , mum!” He hissed, and Harry had to raise a hand to his mouth in order to conceal his own mirth. “ _No_ , flower. ‘m _Eggsy_ , love. _Eggsy_. Your big bruv, yeah?” 

“Da.”

“ _Eggsy_.”

“…Da?”

“God damn it.” At Eggsy’s exasperated remark, Harry lost the battle and gave into his own laughter, which only earned him a stern look from the younger man. Michelle straightened up, wiping tears from her eyes as her giggles slowly died down.

“I’ll take care o’ it.” She chuckled, reaching out to take her daughter from the boy and sending Harry a look of amusement. “Thanks fer havin’ her fer the night.” 

“Our pleasure, as always.” He answered genially, though it was of course the truth. After so many years of taking care of the little girl as though she were his own, Harry guessed that Eggsy was perhaps suffering a bit of withdrawl, now that his mother and sister lived in a separate house that the boy had bought them. Regular visits seemed to help with it immensely. 

“Oh, babes – before I forget, yeah?” Michelle stopped on her way out the door, turning back around. “The pipes in the bath got a bit o’ a rattle to ‘em… Come have a look fer me when ya can?” 

“O’ course, mum.” 

“Thank ya, love.” She stopped when they were at the door to the Kingsman cab that had been assigned purely for Michelle’s use, giving the two men a wave where they were still watching from the doorway. “Say bye-bye, Dais!” The little girl waved a hand, and Harry smiled as he waved back.

“…’ry!” She chirped, before looking at Eggsy. “Da!”

“ _Fucking Christ_.”

* * *

“Better look sharp, mates – here comes King Arthur himself.”

“Nasty bit of work, that scar on his head, eh?”

“I heard that he got shot point-blank in the face on V-Day.”

“Fuck off, Ronnie – how in the bloody hell would someone survive being shot point-blank to the _fucking face_?!”

“It’s true! My sponsor told me.” 

“I heard that Arthur massacred a whole room full of people.” 

“That ain’t nothin’. You ever heard ‘bout Excalibur’s kill count?! It’s in the fuckin’ _hundreds_ , and he’s only been in Kingsman for like, a _year_!”

“I heard that he actually _failed_ the tests, but that he was so deadly that Kingsman _made_ the position of Excalibur, just for him!” 

“Speak of the fucking Devil, man.” 

“Oh shit! Lower yer fuckin’ voices – I ain’t gettin’ on _his_ bad side, ya get me?”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Just thought it was curious that Arthur’s tie is the same shade as Excalibur’s shirt, that’s all.” 

“What, you mean you’ve never heard?”

“Heard what?”

“My sponsor told me that when the two of them aren’t around, the Knights call don’t call him Excalibur, they call him _Guinevere_ instead.”

“What, you mean like they’re _fucking_?! OW!”

“Keep yer fuckin’ voice down, fer Christ sakes! They looked over here!” 

“I saw Excalibur in the gym one time, and he was wearing King Arthur’s crest around his neck. My sponsor says that Arthur wears a sword around his that no one is supposed to know about.” 

“Jesus, that sounds more like _married_ than fucking. OW! Quit it!” 

“Shush!” 

“ _If you are all quite done_.”

“Oh shit… Uh, sorry Merlin.”

* * *

Eggsy raised a brow as one of the recruits in the huddle down on the lawn yelped in pain as another one slapped them about the back of the head for the second time. The noise had obviously gotten Merlin’s attention as well, as he began moving toward the back of the group with a scowl on his face. 

“Recruits seem to be gettin’ along well.” He remarked dryly, as Harry gave out a low chuckle. 

“I must say, I much prefer the recruitment process when it is due to a Knight’s _retirement_ , rather than messy death.” Eggsy quirked a bit of a smile, still keeping a watchful eye on the group on the lawn as Harry did the same. 

“They’re talkin’ an awful lot ‘bout us.” 

“Indeed, my dear.” Eggsy shoved his hands in his pockets, enjoying Harry’s minute frown of disapproval as he utterly _ruined_ the line of his suit. 

“Your own fault, that. You’s the one that wore a green tie to match me shirt. Not exactly subtle, love.” A smile flashed over Harry’s face quickly before he suppressed it. 

“Ah yes, how remiss of me.” There was absolutely _zero_ fucking remorse in his voice, the little _shit_. 

“Yeah, I can see how broken up you are ‘bout it.” Eggsy answered sarcastically, though truthfully he wouldn’t have had it any other way. “You just love stirrin’ up the gossip, you drama queen.” 

“I do believe that, according to the Knights, _you_ are the 'Queen' between the two of us.” Eggsy rolled his eyes.

“Fuckin’ Roxy. I just fuckin’ _know_ that she was the one startin’ all that _Guinevere_ shit.” Harry laughed lightly beside him, as Merlin appeared to be giving the recruits a thorough what-for. They both pasted on serious faces when Merlin turned to address them, raising his voice clearly.

“Excalibur! Our eager children here require some additional drills, perhaps you’d like to take over?” Knowing Merlin and his scare-tactics when he saw them, Eggsy made sure to smile evilly. The entire group of recruits went pale as death.

“My pleasure, Merlin. Let’s start with the rifles, shall we?” 

He cracked his knuckles ominously as he moved toward the group, playing up the role and suppressing his urge to laugh, while Harry chuckled quietly under his breath behind him.

_Yeah, life is fuckin’ good now._

**Author's Note:**

> There will be passing mentions of non/dub-con and prostitution from Eggsy's past, beginning when he is quite young. Absolutely _none_ of these mentions will be graphic in nature; I don't enjoy reading those kinds of things, so I have no intention of writing them. However, please be aware that these kinds of connections will be drawn. 
> 
> **Chapter 8:** While on a mission, the target attempts an assault of a sexual nature upon Eggsy, but he puts a stop to it before anything much can happen.
> 
>  **Chapter 21:** This chapter contains a description of the photographs the bad guy took of the missing children; all of the children are intended to be _alive_ at the time that the photographs were taken, but please be aware that this may be upsetting to some readers. This description was included with the intent to be a device in helping Harry to understand some of Eggsy's trauma. Additionally, this chapter contains a frank discussion between Eggsy and his psychiatrist about his potential sex life and how his trauma may affect it. 
> 
>  If anyone wants to come chat with me on [tumblr](https://mauzymorn.tumblr.com), please feel free!


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